Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/completeworksofr01burn 


Snfa^rt  lurns 


The 
Complete   Works 

(Self-Interpreting) 


ILLUSTRATED    WITH    SIXTY    ETCHINGS 

And  Wood  Cuts,  Maps  and  Facsimiles 


VOLUME    I 


iEiiiulTurylT   iPratrruity 


The  Ellisland  Edition  de  Luxe 

Limited  to  One  Thousand  Numbered 

Copies  of  which  this  is 

Nnwhp.r  /  cy  cJ 


COPYRIGHT  1S86 

BY 

GEBBIE  &  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT  190S 

BY 

KARL  A.   ARVIDSON 

COPYRIGHT  1909 

BY 
JAMES   L.   PERKINS  &  COMPANY 


"^ 


p  ,f  ■ 


^■': 


'   7, 


PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE. 


^  In  May,  1787,  the  celebrated  Dr.  Moore,  the  author  of  "Zeluco," 

^  in  writing  to  Burns,  says,  "You  ought  to  deal  more  sparingly 
for  the  future,  in  the  provincial  dialect.  Why  should  you  by 
using  that,  limit  the  number  of  your  admirers  to  those  who 

V  ^  understand  the  Scottish,  when  you  could  extend  it  to  all  persons 
of  taste,  who  understand  the  English  language." 

(\  A  few  years  later,  the  poet  Cowper,  writing  from  England  to  a 

t^      friend  in  Scotland  said,  ' '  Bums  loses  much  of  his  deserved  praise 
•       in    this    country,    through   our  ignorance  of  his   language.     I 

^  despair  of  meeting  any  Englishman  who  will  take  the  pains  that 
I  have  taken  to  understand  him.  His  candle  is  light,  but  shut 
up  in  a  dark  lantern.  I  lent  him  to  a  sensible  neighbor  of  mine, 
but  the  uncouth  dialect  spoiled  all,  and  before  he  had  read  him 
through  he  was  quite  '  ramfeezled.'  " 

lyord  Jeffrey,  Edinburgh,  writes  to  Mr.  Empson,  lyondon,  Nov. 
nth,  1837  :  "  In  the  last  week  I  have  read  all  Burns's  life  and 
works,  not  without  many  tears  for  the  life  especially.  *  *  * 
You  Southern  Saxons  cannot  value  him  rightly.  You  miss  half 
the  pathos,  and  more  than  half  his  sweetness." 

♦^^  It  has  been  a  matter  of  regret  to  all  English  readers  that 
Burns's  "  Scottish  dialect"  is  so  hard  to  understand.  To  remedy 
this  is  the  chief  purpose  0/ thu  sei^f-interpreting  edition  op 

THE   COMPLETE   WORKS   OP  ROBERT  BURNS. 

^        The  special  qualifications  for  this  work  of  interpretation  are 

\S     referred  to  in  our  Editors'  preface.     Mr.  Hunter,  we  may  say  en 

^     passant,  was  selected  by  us  as  consulting  Scotch  editor,  from  our 

V  knowledge  of  his  -general  scholarly  ability,  his  long  experience 
as  the  chief  editor  of  the  revised  Ogilvie's  Imperial  Dictionary, 
as  editor  of  the  supplement  to  Worcester's  Dictionary,  and  more 
^V  especially  because  of  his  enthusia.stic  love  for  Bums,  his  thor- 
^^^J^ough  knowledge  of  his  author,  and  last  though  not  least,  because 
the  place  of  his  nativity — Ayrshire,  (like  that  of  Mr.  Gebbie, 
co-editor  and  publisher) — made  him  an  fait  in  the  language, 
manners  and  customs  of  the  "land  of  Burns." 


42'78ai 


^ 


Vi  PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE. 

The  advantage  of  a  dual  editorship,  in  which  both  the  mem- 
bers are  "  native  and  to  the  manner  born,"  has  been  manifested 
at  every  step  in  the  progress  of  the  work,  alike  in  compilation, 
interpretation,  and  elucidation  generally.  It  is  for  the  public  to 
judge  the  result. 

We  desire  to  say  only  one  word  as  to  the  embellishment  and 
general  make-up  of  our  Self-Interpreting  edition  of  The  Scottish 
Bard.  The  type  was  specially  cast  for  this  edition  by  The  Mac- 
Kellar  Smiths  &  Jordan  Co.,  of  Philadelphia.  The  Illustrations 
(over  one  hundred  in  all)  have  for  nearly  two  years  engaged 
the  best  etchers  and  engravers  in  America  and  some  in  Europe. 
The  Maps,  Facsimiles  of  MSS.,  &c.,  which  are  reproduced,  will  be 
interesting,  being  mostly  copied  from  original  MS.  now  in  Amer- 
ican collections.  In  this  connection  we  wish  to  record  our 
thanks  to  Messrs.  Geo.  W.  Childs,  Ferdinand  J.  Dreer,  and 
Raymond  Claghom,  of  Philadelphia,  and  Robert  Clarke,  of  Cin- 
cinnati, for  placing  at  our  disposal  their  original  MSS.  of  Bums. 

When  we  have  deemed  it  desirable,  we  have  reproduced  the 
music  for  the  best  songs,  and  in  the  George  Thompson  Corre- 
spondence we  give  the  original  music  in  full. 

In  conclusion,  we  have  made  it  our  study  to  combine  in  this 
edition  of  Bums  every  feature  of  excellence  that  has  hitherto 
been  developed  in  connection  with  his  name  and  fame,  and  have 
aimed  to  make  it  in  all  respects  such  an  edition  as  the  truest 
lover  of  Bums  can  take  to  his  home  and  say,  "Now  I  have 
an  edition  of  Bums  worthy  the  Poet." 


GEBBIE  AND   COMPANY. 


EDITORS'  PREFACE. 


In  offering  to  the  public  another  edition  of  the  Works  of 
Bums,  it  appears  reasonable  that  we  should  state  the  reasons 
that  led  us  to  undertake  the  task  of  preparing  it,  and  the 
special  claims  that  we  believe  it  to  have  on  public  attention. 
First,  then,  we  say  that  up  to  this  time  the  mere  English- 
speaking  reader  has  had  no  edition  of  Bums  at  his  disposal 
enabling  him  adequately  to  understand  and  appreciate  this, 
the  greatest  of  Scottish  poets.  Bums's  poems  are,  as  he  him- 
self phrases  it,  in  the  title-page  to  his  Kilmarnock  Edition, 
"chiefly  in  the  Scottish  dialect" — a  dialect  largely  "an 
unknown  tongue"  to  most  Americans  and  Englishmen — and 
this  applies  especially  to  his  best  and  most  characteristic 
pieces.  Many  editions  of  the  Works  of  Bums  have  been 
published,  some  with  and  some  without  glossaries,  and  some 
with  foot-notes  at  the  bottom  of  the  page,  giving  (or  professing 
to  give)  the  English  equivalents  of  a  small  proportion  of  the 
Scottish  words,  but  not  one  of  those  editions  satisfies  in  any 
adequate  degree,  the  requirements  of  the  English  reader.  For 
the  first  time  the  English-speaking  public  is  put  in  a  position 
to  understand  Bums  readily,  to  enjoy  his  caustic  wit,  his 
genial  humor,  his  wondrous  power  of  fancy,  and  to  appreciate 
his  unrivalled  richness  of  diction  and  felicity  of  expression.  Up 
to  this  time  the  American  public  have  had  to  receive  Burns 
largely  on  trust,  or  to  form  their  estimate  of  hrni  from  the 
pieces  they  could  understand.  He  is  now  made  piam  in  all 
his  fulness  and  power. 

Besides  the  feature  of  interpretation,  on  which  we  largely 
rely  for  the  favor  of  the  American  public  in  this  enterprise, 
we  desire  to  point  out,  somewhat  in  detail,  the  immense 
superiority  in  respect  of  completeness  that  the  present  edition 
possesses  over  all  other  editions  of  our  author.  The  fact  is 
unique  that  it  has  taken  nearly  a  hundred  years  to  gather 
from  their  hiding-places  more  than  one-half  the  letters  of 
Bums,  and  more  than  one-third  of  his  poems  and  songs. 
There   are   various   causes  to    account    for  this   singular  fact. 


viii  EDITORS'  PREFACE. 

Chief  amongst  tliem  was  his  early  death.  Burns  died  in  his 
thirty-seventh  year.  He  had  not  only  been  a  prolific  poet,  but 
a  very  active  correspondent  ;  but  he  was  very  unsystematic. 
It  has  been  urged  by  his  early  biographers,  Currie,  Cromek, 
Lockhart  and  Cunningham,  especially,  that  Bums  never 
expected  that  his  correspondence  would  be  published.  This 
may  be  correct  up  to  a  certain  period,  but  we  are  enabled  to 
publish  (for  the  first  time)  a  letter  which  he  wrote  to  Mr. 
Peter  Hill,  book-seller  and  publisher,  Edinburgh  (introducing 
Mr.  Findlater),*  in  which  he  states  that  he  was  collecting 
(and  evidently  preparing  for  publication)  some,  at  least,  of  his 
letters.  This  was  in  1794.  Shortly  after  this  (in  1796)  Bums 
died,  and  then  it  was  determined  to  publish  his  works,  letters 
and  poetry,  for  the  benefit  of  his  family.  The  editorship  was 
nobly  and  unselfishly  undertaken  by  Dr.  Currie,  and  the  work 
carefully  and  successfully  accomplished.  This  was  in  1800 ; 
but  Currie  was  trammeled  by  three  or  four  draw-backs  :  First, 
some  of  the  pieces  to  which  he  had  access  were  considered 
too  free  in  various  ways.  Secofid,  Bums  was  full  half  a  century 
ahead  of  his  time  in  his  ideas  on  Liberty  ;  and  radicalism, 
after  the  commencement  of  the  French  revolution,  had  become 
unpopular  in  Europe,  therefore,  all  letters,  songs  and  poems 
likely  to  be  offensive  to  a  conservative  government  were  sup- 
pressed. This  feature  will  be  best  understood  by  reading  "The 
Lincluden  Vision  and  Song  of  Liberty,"  now,  for  the  first  time, 
published  as  a  connected  poem.  Third,  the  satires  and  epi- 
grams affecting  people  then  living  were  also  suppressed. 
Fourth,  the  especial  reason  why  Dr.  Currie  did  not  have  more 
matter  to  select  from  or  record,  was  : — the  fame  of  Bums  at 
the  commencement  of  this  century  was  not  so  assured  as  it 
afterwards  became.  To  quote  the  words  of  one  of  his  most 
intelligent  eulogists  : — "It  took  Scotland  fully  fifty  years  to 
arrive  at  a  full  appreciation  of  what  a  gigantic  genius  she  had 
held  in  her  bosom."  Gradually,  however,  as  his  fame  increased, 
people  with  whom  he  had  corresponded  began  to  look  up  his 
letters  ;  some  retained  them  as  precious  relics,  and  some  sold 
them.  Then  the  publishers  got  them  for  publication,  until 
when  Allan  Cunningham,  in  1834,  published  his  edition  of 
the  poet,  he  was  able  to  boast  that  in  his  ' '  Complete  Works 
of  Burns  "  he  had  given  to  the  world  150  songs  and  poems 
more  than  Currie  had  given,  and  more  than  100  more  letters. 
The   edition   of  Cunningham  (Virtue  &   Co.)   and    Blackie's 

*  This  letter  is  now  in  the  collection  of  Mr.  Ferdinand  J.  Dreer,  of  Philadelphia, 
who  kindly  lent  it  to  us  for  publication. 


editors'   preface.  IX 

have  bee^  the  editions  most  extensively  sold  in  America,  and 
Americans  generally  have  accepted  them  as  complete.  Blackie's 
was  published  in  1846,  and  was  a  trifle  more  complete  than 
Cunningham's.  Since  the  publication  of  Virtue's  and  Blackie's 
editions,  there  have  appeared  Chambers',  Waddell's,  Smith's, 
Gilfillan's  and  Wm.  Scott  Douglas's.  The  public  will  understand 
the  necessity  for  a  new  edition  of  Burns' s  works  when  we  inform 
them  that  ours  will  contain  at  least  100  pieces  in  verse  and 
nearly  200  more  letters  than  either  Virtue's  or  Blackie's. 
Besides  this,  we  have  restored  to  their  full  text  many  of  the 
poems  and  letters  abridged  by  previous  editors.  The  notes  of 
all  previous  editors  we  have  treated  on  the  freest  eclectic  prin- 
ciple ;  using  only  those,  however,  that  are  needful  for  a  clearer 
understanding  of  the  text  and  the  story  of  the  Poet's  life. 

While  we  have,  therefore,  laid  all  the  previous  editions 
of  Burns  under  contribution,  comparing,  weighing  and  adopting 
for  ours  what  we  thought  best  in  each,  we  have  selected  for 
the  basis  of  this  edition,  that  of  Wm.  Scott  Douglas,  of  Edin- 
burgh. Mr.  Douglas  has  undoubtedly,  on  the  principle  of 
using  the  work  of  his  predecessors,  produced  the  most  complete 
and  satisfactory  edition  of  the  works  of  the  Bard  of  Scotland, 
published  till  1880.  We  have  not  hesitated,  however,  to  deal 
freely  with  his  work,  collating  it  constantly  with  that  of 
other  editors,  Cunningham,  Hogg  and  Motherwell,  Chambers, 
Gilfillan,  Waddell  and  others,  adopting  it  where  we  considered 
it  best,  but  correcting,  amplifying,  condensing,  deleting  or 
otherwise  modifying  it  as  the  weight  of  authority  or  our  own 
judgment  and  knowledge  dictated.  The  result  is,  that  this  is 
really  an  Eclectic  Edition,  comprising  the  best  of  all  former 
editions  of  the  works  of  Bums,  to  which  we  add  our  own 
commentaries  and  translations.  Our  notes  and  explanations 
are  generally  signed  with  the  editor's  initials,  and  the  same 
mode  is  followed  in  reference  to  any  original  matter  added 
to  Mr.  Douglas's  notes.  Where  additional  matter  has  been 
adopted  from  other  editors,  credit  is  given  them  ;  in  the  case 
of  mere  incidental  hints  or  suggestions  we  have  not  been  so 
careful  to  indicate  authorship.  Where  Mr.  Douglas's  notes 
have  been  modified  by  re-writing  a  portion  for  the  sake  of 
clearness,  condensation,  or  correction,  or  by  incorporating  new 
matter  in  the  text  with  the  view  of  enriching  and  elucidating 
it,  we  have  not,  so  long  as  the  main  portion  of  the  work  is 
Mr.  D.'s,  indicated  our  share. 

We  publish,  for  the  first  time,  enough  of  the  celebrated  and 
mysterious  "Court  of  Equity"  to  enable  our  readers  clearly  to 


X  EDITORS^  PREFACE. 

understand  tlie  nature  of  this  production,  so  frequently  referred 
to  in  his  correspondence. 

Our  discovery  of  the  connection  of  "The  Lincluden  Vision" 
and  "The  Ode  to  Liberty"  will  be  found  fully  detailed  in 
Vol.  V.  The  long  missing  Edinburgh  Journal  will  be  found 
complete  in  Vol.  II. 

One  new  special  feature  in  this  edition,  (besides  our  method 
of  translation)  is,  that  each  volume  is  complete  in  itself,  cover- 
ing a  certain  period  of  the  poet's  life,  and  comprising  both 
his  rhymed  and  unrh3'med  productions,  the  poetry-  keeping 
time  with  the  prose  and  the  prose  with  the  poetry  ;  while 
the  intercalated  biography  aids  in  illustrating  both  and  in 
turn  receives  illustration  from  them.  The  only  exceptions  to 
this  arrangement  are  in  the  cases  of  his  Autobiography,  his 
Clarinda  Correspondence  and  his  Correspondence  with  George 
Thomson  ;  and,  in  each  of  these  cases  the  intelligent  reader 
will  easily  appreciate  the  reason  for  the  distinction.  By  treat- 
ing the  work  in  this  way  the  life-history  of  the  Poet  helps  to 
elucidate  his  productions. 

In  our  choice  of  a  Biography  for  the  poet,  we  have  had  no 
hesitation  in  selecting  that  of  Alexander  Smith,  the  author  of 
"City  Poems,"  "A  Life  Drama,"  etc.,  a  poet  and  an  Ayrshire 
man  by  birth,  as  being  at  once  the  clearest,  fullest,  most 
genially  sympathetic,  and  generally  interesting.  The  same 
freedom  of  treatment  has  been  applied  to  it  that  has  been 
applied  to  Mr.  Douglas's  notes  ;  facts  have  been  verified, 
opinions  and  judgments  weighed,  and  every  means  used  to 
give  the  public  at  once,  the  fullest  and  fairest  biography  of 
Robert  Bums.  Free  use  has  been  made  in  this  connection 
of  the  eloquent  sketch  of  his  life  by  Dr.  Waddell,  and  the 
careful  Biography  by  Robert  Chambers.  Nor  have  the  Biog- 
raphies by  his  brother  poets,  Cunningham,  and  Hogg  and 
Motherwell  been  neglected.  GEO.   Gebbie. 


PREFACE. 

{To  the  Original  Edition,  Kilmarnock,  1786.) 


The  following  trifles  are  not  the  production  of  the  Poet,  who, 
with  all  the  advantages  of  learned  art,  and  perhaps  amid  the 
elegancies  and  idlenesses  of  upper  life,  looks  down  for  a  rural 
theme,  with  an  eye  to  Theocrites  or  Virgil.  To  the  Authoi 
of  this,  these  and  other  celebrated  names  (their  countrymen) 
are,  in  their  original  languages,  '  a  fountain  shut  up,  and  a 
book  sealed.'  Unacquainted  with  the  necessary  requisites  for 
commencing  Poet  by  rule,  he  sings  the  sentiments  and  man- 
ners he  felt  and  saw  in  himself  and  his  rustic  compeers  around 
him,  in  his  and  their  native  language.  Though  a  Rhymer 
from  his  earliest  years,  at  least  from  the  earliest  impulses  of 
the  softer  passions,  it  was  not  till  very  lately  that  the  applause, 
perhaps  the  partiality,  of  Friendship,  wakened  his  vanity  so 
far  as  to  make  him  think  anything  of  his  was  worth  showing  ; 
and  none  of  the  following  works  were  ever  composed  with  a 
view  to  the  press.  To  amuse  himself  with  the  little  creations 
of  his  own  fancy,  amid  the  toil  and  fatigues  of  a  laborious 
life  ;  to  transcribe  the  various  feelings,  the  l,oves,  the  griefs, 
the  hopes,  the  fears,  in  his  own  breast ;  to  find  some  kind  of 
counterpoise  to  the  struggles  of  a  world,  always  an  alien 
scene,  a  task  uncouth  to  the  poetical  mind  ;  these  were  his 
motives  for  coiirting  the  Muses,  and  in  these  he  found  Poetry 
to  be  its  own  reward. 

Now  that  he  appears  in  the  public  character  of  an  Author, 
he  does  it  with  fear  and  trembling.  So  dear  is  fame  to  the 
rhyming  tribe,  that  even  he,  an  obscure,  nameless  Bard, 
shrinks  aghast  at  the  thought  of  being  branded  as  '  An  imper- 
tinent blockhead,  obtruding  his  nonsense  on  the  world  ;  and 
because  he  can  make  a  shift  to  jingle  a  few  doggerel  Scotch 
rhymes  together,  looks  upon  himself  as  a  Poet  of  no  small 
consequence  forsooth.' 

It  is  an  observation  of  that  celebrated  Poet* — whose  divine 
Elegies  do  honor  to  our  language,  our  nation  and  our  species, 

*  Shenstone. 


xii  ORIGINAL    PREFACE. 

— ^that  'Humility  has  depressed  many  a  genius  to  a  hermit, 
but  never  raised  one  to  fame.'  If  any  Critic  catches  at  the 
word  genius,  the  Author  tells  him,  once  for  all,  that  he  cer- 
tainly  looks  vipon  himself  as  possest  of  some  poetic  abilities, 
otherwise  his  publishing  in  the  manner  he  has  done  would 
be  a  mancEuvre  below  the  worst  character  which,  he  hopes  his 
worst  enemy  will  ever  give  him :  but  to  the  genius  of  a 
Ramsay,  or  the  glorious  dawnings  of  the  poor  unfortunate 
Ferguson,  he,  with  equal  unaffected  sincerity,  declares,  that, 
even  in  his  highest  pulse  of  vanity,  he  has  not  the  most 
distant  pretensions.  These  two  justly  admired  Scotch  Poets 
he  has  often  had  in  his  eye  in  the  following  pieces  ;  but 
rather  with  a  view  to  kindle  at  their  flame,  than  for  servile 
imitation. 

To  his  Subscribers,  the  Author  returns  his  most  sincere 
thanks.  Not  the  mercenary  bow  over  a  counter,  but  the  heart- 
throbbing  gratitude  of  the  Bard,  conscious  how  much  he  is 
indebted  to  Benevolence  and  Friendship  for  gratifj^'ing  him,  if 
he  deserves  it,  in  that  dearest  wish  of  every  poetic  bosom — to 
be  distinguished.  He  begs  his  readers,  particularly  the  Learned 
and  the  Polite,  who  may  honor  him  with  a  perusal,  that  they 
will  make  every  allowance  for  Education  and  Circumstances  of 
Life :  but  if,  after  a  fair,  candid,  and  impartial  criticism,  he 
shall  stand  convicted  of  Dulness  and  Nonsense,  let  him  be 
done  by,  as  he  would  in  that  case  do  by  others — let  him  be 
condemned,  without  mercy,  to  contempt  and  oblivion. 


CONTENTS   OF  VOLUME  I. 


POETRY. 


rAGB 


Song — Handsome  Nell i 

Har'ste — A  Fragment 3 

Song — O  Tibbie,  I  hae  seen  the  day  .   .   .   .   , 4 

Song — I  dream'd  I  lay 7 

Song — In  the  Character  of  a  Ruined  Farmer 8 

Tragic  Fragment — All  villain  as  I  am 10 

The  Tarbolton  Lasses 12 

Paraphrase  of  Jeremiah  xv.  10 13 

Montgomerie's  Peggy 14 

The  Ploughman's  Life 15 

The  Ronalds  of  the  Bennals 16 

Song — Here's  to  thy  health,  my  bonie  lass 18 

The  Lass  of  Cessnock  Banks 20 

Song — Bonie  Peggy  Alison 23 

Song — Mary  Morison 25 

Winter  :  A  Dirge 26 

A  Prayer  under  the  Pressure  of  Violent  Anguish  .....  28 

Paraphrase  of  the  First  Psalm 29 

The  First  Six  Verses  of  the  Ninetieth  Psalm  versified    .   .  30 

A  Prayer  in  the  Prospect  of  Death 31 

Stanzas  on  the  Same  Occasion 32 

Fickle  Fortune  :•  A  Fragment 34 

Song — Raging  Fortune  :  A  Fragment 35 

I'll  go  and  be  a  Sodger , 35 

Song — No  Churchman  am  I 36 

My  Father  was  a  Farmer :  A  Ballad 38 

John  Barleycorn  :  A  Ballad 40 

The  Death  and  Dying  Words  of  Poor  Mailie 43 

Poor  Mailie's  Elegy 46 

Song— The  Rigs  o'  Barley 48 

Song — Composed  in  August 50 

Song — My  Nanie,  O  ! *...,..  52 

Song — Green  Grow  the  Rashes 54 

xiii 


xiv  CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  I 

PAOB 

Song — "Indeed  will  I,"  quo'  Findlay 56 

Remorse  :  A  Fragment 57 

Epitaph  on  James  Grieve,  Laird  of  Boghead 58 

Epitaph  on  William  Hood,  Senior 59 

Epitaph  on  William  Muir 59 

Epitaph  on  my  Ever  Honoured  Father 60 

Ballad  on  the  American  War 61 

Reply  to  an  Announcement  by  J.  Rankine 64 

Epistle  to  John  Rankine 65 

A  Poet's  Welcome  to  his  Love-Begotten  Daughter  ....  69 

Song — O  Leave  Novels  ! 71 

The  Mauchline  Lady  :  A  Fragment 72 

My  Girl  she's  airy  :  A  Fragment 73 

The  Belles  of  INIauchline T^, 

Epitaph  on  a  Noisy  Polemic 74 

Epitaph  on  a  Henpecked  Squire 75 

Epigram  on  the  said  Occasion ^  .   .   .   .  75 

Another      do              do                  75 

On  Tarn  the  Chapman 76 

Epitaph  on  John  Rankine 76 

Lines  on  the  Author's  Death 77 

Man  was  made  to  Mourn  :   A  Dirge 78 

The  Twa  Herds  ;  or,  the  Holy  Tulyie 81 

Epistle  to  Davie,  a  Brother  Poet 86 

Holy  Willie's  Praj'er 91 

Epitaph  on  Holy  Willie 96 

Death  and  Dr.  Hornbook 98 

Epistle  to  J.  Lapraik 105 

Second  Epistle  to  J.  Lapraik iii 

Epistle  to  William  Simson 115 

One  Night  as  I  did  Wander 123 

Fragment  of  Song — "  My  Jean  !  " 123 

Song — Rantin,  Rovin  Robin 125 

Elegy  on  the  Death  of  Robert  Ruisseaux 128 

Epistle  to  John  Goldie,  in  Kilmarnock 129 

Third  Epistle  to  J.  Lapraik 132 

Epistle  to  the  Rev.  John  M'Math 134 

Second  Epistle  to  Davie 137 

Song — Young  Peggy  Blooms 139 

Song — Farewell  to  Ballochmyle 141 

Fragment — Her  Flowing  Locks 142 

Halloween 142 

To  a  Mouse 153 


CONTENTS  OF  VOI^UME  L  XV 

*  PAGB 

Epitaph  on  John  Dove,  Innkeeper 156 

Epitaph  for  James  Smith 157 

Adam  Armour's  Prayer 157 

The  Jolly  Beggars  :  A  Cantata 159 

Song — For  a'  that 178 

Song — Kissin  my  Katie 179 

The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night 180 

Address  to  the  Deil 188 

Scotch  Drink 193 

The  Auld   Farmer's  New- Year  Morning  Salutation  to  nis 

Auld  Mare,  Maggie 199 

The  Twa  Dogs 203 

The  Author's  Earnest  Cry  and  Prayer 213 

The  Ordination 221 

Epistle  to  James  Smith 227 

The  Vision 234 

The  Rantin  Dog,  the  Daddie  o't 248 

Here's  his  Health  in  Water 249 

Address  to  the  Unco  Guid 250 

The  Inventory 253 

To  John  Kennedy,  Dumfries  House 256 

To  Mr.  M'Adam,  of  Craigen-Gillan 257 

To  a  Louse 259 

Inscribed  on  a  Work  of  Hannah  More's 261 

The  Holy  Fair 262 

Song — Composed  in  Spring 273 

To  a  Mountain  Daisy 279 

To  Ruin 27ii 

The  Lament 279 

Despondency  :  An  Ode 282 

To    Gavin    Hamilton,    Esq.,    Mauchline,    recommending    a 

.  Boy 285 

Versified  Reply  to  an  Invitation 287 

Song — Will  ye  go  to  the  Indies,  my  Mary  ? 288 

My  Highland  Lassie,  O 290 

Epistle  to  a  Young  Friend 293 

Address  of  Beelzebub 298 

A  Dream 301 

A  Dedication  to  Gavin  Hamilton,  Esq 306 

Versified  Note  to  Dr.  Mackenzie,  Mauchline 312 

The  Farewell   to  the  Brethren  of  St.  James's  Lodge,  Tar- 

bolton 313 

On  a  Scotch  Bard,  gone  to  the  West  Indies 315 


XVI 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  L 


PAOB 

Song— Farewell  to  Eliza 317 

A  Bard's  Epitaph 3^9 

Epitaph  for  Robert  Aiken,  Esq 320 

Epitaph  for  Gavin  Hamilton,  Esq 321 

Epitaph  on  "Wee  Johnie" 321 

The  Lass  o'  Ballochmyle 322 

Motto  prefixed  to  the  Author's  First  Publication 325 

The  Court  of  Equity 399 


PROSE. 


Sale  of  Kilmarnock  Edition , 326 

Introductory  Note .*....  327 

Introduction  to  Autobiography 328 

Autobiography — Letter  to  Dr.  Moore 332 

Supplementary  Note  to  Dr.  Moore 350 


Chrono 

Manna 

Letters 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 

Letter 


ogical  Supplement  to  Autobiography 351 

of  Religious  Belief  by  Poet's  father 354 

by  Poet's  father 358 

)  to  Ellison  Begbie 360 

)  to  Ellison  Begbie 361 

)  to  Ellison  Begbie 363 

)  to  Ellison  Begbie 364 

)  to  Ellison  Begbie 366 

the  Author's  father 368 

)  to  Sir  John  Whitefoord,  Bart 370 

)  to  Mr.  John  Murdock,  Schoolmaster,  London  .   .  372 

)  to  Mr.  James  Bumess,  "Writer,  Montrose  ....  375 

)  to  Mr.  James  Burness,  Writer,  Montrose  ....  y]"] 

)  to  Mr.  James  Bumess,  Writer,  Montrose  ....  378 

)  to  Mr.  Thomas  Orr,  Park,  near  Kirkoswald    .   .  380 

)  to  Miss  Margaret  Kennedy 381 

)  to  Mr.  John  Richmond,  Edinburgh 382 

)  to  Jas.   Smith,   Mauchline 383 

)  to  Mr.  John  Kennedy 384 

)  to  Mr.  Robert  Muir,  Kilmarnock 385 

)  to  Robert  Aiken,  Esq.,  Ayr 385 

i)  to  John  Ballantine,  Esq.,  Banker,  Ayr 386 

i)  to  Mr.  M'Whinnie,  Writer,  Ayr 388 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  I.  xvii 

PAGE 

Letter  (2)  to  Mr.  John  Kennedy 389 

Letter  (i)  to  John  Arnot,  Esq.,  of  Dalquatswood 390 

Egotisms  from  my  own  sensations 395 

Letter  (3)  to  Mr.  John   Kennedy 396 

Letter  (i)  to  Mr.  David   Brice,   Glasgow 396 

Letter  (4)  to  Mr.  James   Burness,  Writer,  Montrose  ....  397 

Letter  (2)  to  Mr.  John  Richmond,  Edinburgh  . 398 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PAINTED    BY  ENGRAVED    BY  PAG8 

Portrait  of  Burns A.  Nasmyth  ....  J.  McGofEn.  Frontisp. 

The  Rigs   O'Barley Max  Rosenthal.  .    .  Max   Rosenthal    48 

My  Nanie,    O! John  Faed,R.S.A.  .  .W.  Dunbar.  .    .      52 

The  Jolly  Beggars J.  M.  Wright J.  McGoffin  .   .    161 

The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night.J.  O.  Brown S.  Hollyer,  ...   184 

The  Twa  Dogs J.  B.  Sword   ....  P.  Moran  .    .    .    203 

The  Vision C.  Stanton, A.R.S.A.  .J.  McGoffin  .    .    240 

To  a   Louse W.  Small Teyssonnieres  .    259 

The  Lass  O'  Ballochmyle.  .  .J.  O.  Brown  ....  P.  Moran.  .    •  .    322 
The  Birthplace  of  Burns  .    .  .J.  Ramage J.  Godfrey.  .    .  .  352 


WOOD  CUTS. 

Burns's  Crest (On  Title  Page), 

Fac-Similes  of  the   Inscriptions  in   the  two  volumes  of  the 

Bible  presented  by  the  Poet  to  "  Highland  Mary  "  Pages   292,  293 
Interior  of  the  kitchen   Mossgiel "  324 


EXPIvANATION. 


At  the  head  of  each  Poem,  Song,  or  Letter,  will  be 
recorded,  where  and  when  it  was  first  published. 


The  Scotch  words  are  printed  in  Italics'^  and  their 
English  meaning,  in  smaii  type,  appears  at  the  end  of 
each  line. 


The  Chronological  Notes  of  the  Douglas  Edition,  as 
explained  in  the  Editor's  Preface,  being  here  mainly 
used,  are  not  signed ;  all  the  other  notes  are  recorded 
by  signature,  or  credited  to  their  various  editors. 


The  date  of  the  compositions,  and  the  age  of  the 
Poet  at  the  period,  appear  at  the  head  of  each  alter- 
nate page. 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


SONG— HANDSOME   NELL. 

Tune — "  I  am  a  man  unmarried." 
(CURRIE,    l8cx).) 

I  never  had  the  least  thought  or  inclination  of  turning  Poet 
till  I  got  once  heartily  in  love,  and  then  rhyme  and  song  were, 
in  a  manner,  the  spontaneous  language  of  my  heart.  The  fol- 
lowing composition  was  the  first  of  my  performances.  It  is, 
indeed,  very  puerile  and  silly;  but  I  am  always  pleased  with  it, 
as  it  recalls  to  my  mind  those  happy  da3^s  when  my  heart  was 
yet  honest,  and  my  tongue  was  sincere. — Common-place  Book, 
August,  ijSj. 

O  ONCE  I  lov'd  a  bonie  lass, 

Aye,  and  I  love  her  still  ; 
And  whilst  that  virtue  warms  my  breast, 

I'll  love  my  handsome  Nell. 

As  bonie  lasses  I  hae  seen. 

And  mony  full  as  braw  ;  gaily  dressed 

But,  for  a  modest  gracefu'  mien, 

The  like  I  never  saw. 

A  bonie  lass,  I  will  confess, 

Is  pleasant  to  the  e' e  ;  ttf 

But,  without  some  better  qualities. 
She's  no  a  lass  for  me. 
L  A 


2  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1773. 

But  Nelly's  looks  are  biythe  and  sweet,       cheerful 
And  .whai  is  best  of  «',  aii 

Her  feputation  is  complete, 
Arid  fait  without  a  flaw. 

She  dresses  ay  sae  clean  and  neat, 

Both  decent  and  genteel  ; 
And  then  there's  something  in  her  gait 

Gars  ony  dress  look  wed.  makes      weii 

A  gaudy  dress  and  gentle  air  weu-bom 

May  slightly  touch  the  heart ; 
But  it's  innocence  and  modesty 

That  polishes  the  dart. 

'Tis  this  in  Nelly  pleases  me, 

'Tis  this  enchants  my  soul ; 
For  absolutely  in  my  breast 

She  reigns  without  controul. 

[Dr.  Currie  transcribed  this  song  very  accurately  from  the  poet's 
Common-place  Book,  where  it  stands  recorded  under  date  April, 
1783.  Burns  delighted  to  refer  to  the  incident  that  gave  rise  to 
these  .  juvenile  verses : — Nelly  Kirkpatrick,  daughter  of  a  black- 
smith in  the  neighborhood  of  Mount  Oliphant,  inspired  the  song 
in  the  har\'est-field,  in  the  autumn  of  1773,  when  he  was  yet  under 
fifteen,  or  as  some  say  seventeen,  3'ears  old.  We  must  refer  the 
reader  to  the  bard's  own  account  of  this  his  first  love-experience, 
contained  in  the  poem  addressed  to  Mrs.  Scott  of  Wauchope 
House,  and  also  in  his  autobiography ;  meanwhile  let  us  note  how 
early  the  power  of  music  seems  to  have  affected  Bums.  Speaking 
of  "Nell,"  he  says:  "Among  other  love-inspiring  qualities,  she 
sang  sweetly  ;  and  it  was  her  favourite  reel  to  which  I  attempted 
giving  an  embodied  vehicle  in  rhyme."  In  his  Common-place 
Book,  he  has  followed  the  record  of  it  with  an  elaborate  "criti- 
cism," which  shews  how  carefully  he  had  been  training  himself  for 
lyric  composition.  Here  is  a  sample : — In  the  second  couplet  of 
verse  first  "the  expression  is  a  little  awkward,  and  the  sentiment 
too  serious."  "Stanza  the  second  I  am  well  pleased  with  . 
and  I  think  it  conveys  a  fine  idea  of  a  sweet,   sonsy  lass."*     He 

♦  "  Sonsy  laas,"  a  plump,  well-conditioned  lass.    "  Sonsiness  "  implies  good-nature. 

-J.  H. 


j^r.  15.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  3 

condemns  v*ses  i/iird  and /ourf/i ;  but  "the  thoughts  in  'Ca^  fifth 
stanza  come  finely  up  to  my  favorite  idea — a  sweet,  sonsy  lass." 
He  approves  also  of  the  sixth  verse,  ' '  but  the  second  and  fourth 
lines  ending  with  short  syllables,  hurts  the  whole.''''  "The  seventh 
stanza  has  several  minute  faults ;  but  I  remember  I  composed  it 
in  a  wild  enthusiasm  of  passion,  and  to  this  hour  I  never  recollect 
it,  but  my  heart  melts,  and  my  blood  sallies  at  the  remembrance." 
In  17S6,  Bums  presented  copies  of  some  of  his  early  pieces — and 
this  among  the  rest — to  Mrs.  Stewart  of  Stair,  and  in  that  MS.  the 
fourth  verse  is  remodelled  thus  : — 

But  Nelly's  looks  are  blythe  and  sweet, 

Good-humoured,  frank,  and  free ; 
And  still  the  more  I  view  them  o'er, 

The  more  they  captive  me. 

Verse  fifth  is  wanting  in  the  Stair  MS.  That  the  poet  was  not 
satisfied  with  these  variations  is  evident  from  the  fact  that  he 
afterwards  transmitted  the  song  to  Johnson  for  publication  in  its 
original  form.j 


HAR'STE—K   FRAGMENT.  harvest 

Tune — "  I  had  a  horse,  and  I  had  nae  mair." 
(Originai,  Common-place  Book,  1872.) 

Another  circumstance  of  my  life,  whicli  made  very  consider- 
able alteration  on  my  mind  and  manners,  was,  that  I  spent  my 
seventeenth*  summer  a  good  distance  from  home,  at  a  noted 
school  on  a  smuggling  coast,  to  learn  mensuration,  surveying, 
dialling,  &c.  ...  I  went  on  with  a  high  hand  in  my  geometry, 
till  the  sun  entered  Virgo,  a  month  which  is  always  a  carnival 
in  my  bosom;  a  charming ^//r//t',  who  lived  next  door  to  the 
school,  overset  my  trigonometry-,  &c.  .  .  .  The  last  two  nights 
of  my  stay  in  the  country,  had  sleep  been  a  mortal  sin,  I  was 
innocent.  .  .  . 

Song  second  was  the  ebullition  of  that  passion  which  ended 
the  fore-mentioned  school  hnsm&ss.— Autobiography. 

Now  breezy  zvifi's  and  slaughtering  guns  winds 

Bring  Autumn's  pleasant  weather, 


"Dr.  Currie  and  succeeding  editors  of  Bums  have  printed  this  word  "nine- 
teenth ;"  the  above  extract  is  made  from  the  original  MS.  (Dr.  Currie  made  the 
correction,  after  due  deliberation,  on  the  authority  of  Gilbert  Bums,  who  affirmed 
that  here  and  elsewhere  the  poet  had  understated  his  age  by  two  years.— J.  H.) 


POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1775. 

And  the  muircock  springs  on  whirring  wings 
Amang  the  blooming  heather. 

Now  waving  crops,  with  yellow  tops, 

Delight  the  weary  farmer, 
An'  the  moon  shines  bright  when  I  rove  at  night, 

To  muse  .  .  .     * 


[The  school  was  that  of  Kirkoswald,  and  the  name  of  this 
"  charming  Ji/ieile  "  was  Peggy  Thomson.  Shortly  prior  to  the  first 
publication  of  our  author's  poems  she  became  the  wife  of  a  Mr. 
Neilson  at  Kirkoswald — an  "old  acquaintance"  of  Bums,  "and  a 
most  worthy  fellow."  When  we  come  to  give  the  song  in  its  fin- 
ished form  (under  date  1783),  about  which  time,  it  seems,  Burns 
experienced  a  renewed  fit  of  passion  for  Pegg>-,  we  shall  give  some 
particulars  regarding  her  history.     See  page  50. 

Here  we  see  that  from  the  very  beginning  of  the  poet's  attempts 

at    song-writing,    he    must    have    a    tune    to    prompt    his 

musings.      He   early  laid   down  this  rule,  that   "to  sowth    '^^i^tlei 
,  .       ,  ,.  ,       ,  softly) 

the  tune  over  and  over,  is  the  readiest  way  to  catch  the 

inspiration    and   raise  the   bard   into   that   glorious    enthusiasm    so 

strongly  characteristic  of  old  Scotch  poetry."] 


SONG— O  TIBBIE,  I  HAE  SEEN  THE  DAY. 

Isabella 
Tune — " Invercauld's  Reel,  or  Strathspey." 

{Johnson's  Museum,  1788.     Compared  with  C.-P.  Book,  1872.) 

Chor. — O  Tibbie,   I  hae  seen  the  day, 

Ye  wadiia  been  sae  shy ;  would  not 

For  laik  o'  gear  ye  lightly  me,  lack  cash  slight 

But,   trowtli,   I  care  na  by.  don't  care 

Yestreen  I  met  you  on  the  moor,  yester-eve 

Ye  spak  na,  but  gaed  by  like  stoure;t 

*In  the  extended  version,  printed  p.  50  this  line  reads  "To  muse  upon  my 
charmer,"  but  in  the  Common-place  Book,  after  "To  muse,"  a  name,  supposed 
to  be  Jean  Armour,  is  written  in  cypher,  or  short-hand.  If  this  supposition  is 
correct,  it  only  shews  what  "charmer  "  was  uppermost  in  the  poet's  mind  when 
he  made  the  entry  in  Augnist,   1785. 

tYou  spoke  not,  but  went  past  like  dust  driven  by  the  wind. 


fl^T.  17.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  5 

» 
Ye  geek  at  me  because  I'm  poor,  toss  your  head 

But  fient  a  hair  care  I.  deuce 

O  Tibbie,   I  hae  seen  tlie  day,  &:c. 

When  comin  hame  on  Sunday  last. 
Upon  the  road  as  I  cam  past. 
Ye  snuflft  an  gae  your  head  a  cast —  gave 

But  trowth  I  care' t  na  by.  in  truth 

O  Tibbie,  I  hae  seen  the  day,  &c. 

I  doubt  na,  lass,  but  ye  may  think. 
Because  ye  hae  the  name  o'  clink^  cash 

That  ye  can  please  me  at  a  wink, 
Whene'er  ye  like  to  try. 

O  Tibbie,  I  hae  seen  the  day,  &c. 

But  sorrow  tak  him  that's  sae  mean, 
Altho'  his  pouch  o'  coin  were  clean,  pocket 

Wha  follows  ony  saucy  quean^  wench- 

That  looks  sae  proud  and  high. 

O  Tibbie,  I  hae  seen  the  day,  &.C. 

Altho'  a  lad  were  e'er  sae  smart. 
If  that  he  want  the  yellow  dirt^  gold 

Ye' 11  cast  your  head  anither  airt^  direction 

And  answer  him  fu'  dry. 

O  Tibbie,  I  hae  seen  the  day,  &c. 

But  if  he  hae  the  name  o'  gear^  money 

Ye' 11  fasten  to  him  like  a  brier, 
Tho'  hardly  he,   for  sense  or  lear^  learning 

Be  better  than  the  kye.  tine 

O  Tibbie,   I  hae  seen  the  day,   &c. 

But,  Tibbie,  lass,   tak  my  advice: 
Your  daddie's  gear  maks  you  sae  nice; 


POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [i775- 

The  deil  a  ane  wad  spier  your  price,       would  ask 
Were  ye  as  poor  as  I. 

O  Tibbie,  I  hae  seen  the  day,  &:c. 

There  lives  a  lass  beside  yon  park, 

I'd  rather  hae  her  in  her  sark^  have     chemise 

Than  you  \vi'  a'  your  thousand  mark ;  * 

That  gars  you  look  sae  high.  makes 

O  Tibbie,  I  hae  seen  the  day,  &c. 


[A  little  controversy  has  arisen  regarding  the  date  of  this  song. 
In  the  poet's  Glenriddell  notes,  he  expressly  says  of  it: — "This 
song  I  composed  about  the  age  of  seventeen."  Mrs.  Begg,  on  the 
other  hand  (who,  by  the  way,  was  only  five  years  old  when  her 
brother  was  seventeen),  insisted  that  the  Tibbie  af  the  song  was 
Isabella  Stein,  of  Tarbolton  Parish.  In  a  note  to  the  present 
writer,  she  says: — "Tibbie  Stein  lived  at  Little  Hill,  a  farm  march- 
ing with  that  of  Lochlea  :  that  the  song  was  written  upon  her  was 
well  known  in  the  neighborhood,  no  one  doubting  it." 

With  all  deference,  we  are  inclined  to  adhere  to  the  poet's  direct 
statement,  and  regard  this  as  a  Mount  Oliphant  incident,  following 
immediately  after  the  summer  he  spent  at  Kirkoswald.  We  feel 
greatly  strengthened  in  this  opinion  by  a  corresponding  record  of 
Bums,  the  correctness  of  which  has  also  been  much  controverted 
by  his  brothers  and  sisters.  It  is  this: — "In  my  seventeenth  year 
{i.  e.,  1775,  two  years  before  the  Lochlea  period),  to  give  my  man- 
ners a  brush,  I  went  to  a  country  dancing-school.  My  father  had 
an  unaccountable  antipathy  against  these  meetings  ;  and  my  going 
was,  what  to  this  hour  I  repent,  in  absolute  defiance  of  his  com- 
mands." t 

The  second  stanza  and  the  closing  one  are  both  wanting  in 
Johnson's  Museum.  They  are  inserted  here  from  the  Common- 
place Book.  Dr.  Currie's  version  of  the  concluding  stanza  reads 
thus:  — 

There  lives  a  lass  in  yonder  park, 

I  viradna  gie  her  in  her  sark 
For  thee,  wi'  a'  thy  thousan'  mark; 

Ye  needna  look  sae  high.] 


♦The  mark  was  a  Scottish  coin  worth  13^.  ^d.  Scots,  or  u.  i]^d.  sterling,  or 
26J/^  cents. 

■f- There  is  some  question  regarding  the  chronology  here,  and  most  commenta 
tors  place  the  school  at  ^arbolton.— J.  H. 


;ET.   17-3  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  7 

SONG— I   DREAM' D  I  LAY. 

(Johnson's  Museum,   17SS.) 

These  two  stanzas  I  composed  when  I  was  seventeen,  and 
are  among  the  oldest  of  my  printed  pieces. — Glenriddell  Notes 
in  Cromek. 

I  dream' D  I  lay  where  flowers  were  springing 

Gaily  in  the  sunny  beam; 
List'ning  to  the  wild  birds  singing, 
■    By  a  falling  crystal  stream: 
•     Straight  the  sky  grew  black  and  daring; 

Thro'  the  woods  the  whirlwinds  rave; 
Trees  with  aged  anns  were  warring, 

O'er  the  swelling  drumlie  wave.  muddy 

Such  was  my  life's  deceitful  morning, 

Such  the  pleasures  I  enjoy'd: 
But  lang  or  noon,  loud  tempests  storming,  ere 

A  my  flowery  bliss  destroy' d.  au 

Tho'  fickle  fortune  has  deceiv'd  me — 

She  promis'd  fair,  and  perform' d  but  ill. 
Of  mony  a  joy  and  hope  bereav'd  me —  many 

I  bear  a  heart  shall  support  me  still. 

[There  can  be  uo  doubt  that  this  production  was  suggested  to 
the  young  lyrist  by  his  admiration  of  Mrs.  Cockburu's  song,  "I've 
seen  the  smiling  of  Fortune  beguiling,"  which,  about  the  year 
1764,  found  its  way  into  miscellaneous  collections  of  song.  It 
appeared  in  one  of  these  published  in  that  year,  called  The  Black- 
bird;  and  also  in  a  like  miscellany  entitled  The  Charmer,  and  in 
another  named  The  Lark  (both  of  the  latter  dated  1765).  Any 
one  of  them  may  have  been  that  "Select  Collection"  which,  he 
tells  us,  was  his  vade  mccuni  before  the  Burness  family  removed 
from  Mount  Oliphant. 

The  poet  again  and  again  reverts  to  the  last  four  lines  of  this 
song,  as  if  the  conning  them  over  yielded  him  some  comfort. 
"At  the  close   of  that  dreadful  period" — his  distress   at  Irvine— he 


8  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1776. 

adopted  these  lines  as  the  opening  of  a  little  "sang  to  soothe  his 
misery,"  only  altering  line  third  to  suit  his  altered  circumstances, 
tbus: 

of  mistress,  friends  and  wealth  bereaved  me. 

But  the  embrj'o  minstrel,  in  composing  the  i:)resent  song,  had 
P-Xrs.  Cockbum's  Flowers  of  the  Forest  rather  too  much  in  his  eye; 
fv3r  he  not  only  copied  her  ideas,  but  her  very  expressions.  For 
her  "silver  streams  shining  in  the  sunny  beams,"  we  have  here 
the  tyro's  "crystal  stream"  falling  "gaily  in  the  sunny  beam." 
The  river  Tweed  of  Mrs.  Cockburn  "grows  driimly  and  dark,"  and 
so  does  the  streamlet  of  the  young  dreamer  become  a  "swelling 
drumlie  wave."  The  lady  hears  "  lotid  tempests  storming  before 
the  mid-day,"  and  so  does  the  boy  Burns  hear  "  lang  or  noon,  loud 
tempests  storming."  I'inally,  the  authoress  is  "perplexed"  with 
the  "sporting  of  fickle  fortune,"  and  our  poet  is  wretchedly  "de- 
ceived"  by  the  ill-performed  promises  of  the  same  "fickle  for- 
tune; "  and,  not  to  be  outdone  by  the  lady's  defi^^ce  of  fortune's 
frowns,  the  independent  youngster  boasts  that  he  "bears  a  heart 
shall  support  him  still."  Robert  Chambers  refers  to  these  simili- 
tudes in  his  last  remarks  on  this  song.] 


SONG— IN  THE    CHARACTER    OE    A  RUINED 
FARMER. 

Tune — "  Go  from  my  window,  Love,  do." 
(Chambers,  1S52,  Compared  with  the  Orig.  MS.) 

The  sun  he  is  sunk  in  the  west, 
All  creatures  retired  to  rest, 
While  here  I  sit,  all  sore  beset, 

With  sorrow,  grief,  and  woe : 
And  it's  O,  fickle  Fortune,  O  1 

The  prosperous  man  is  asleep. 

Nor  hears  how  the  whirlwinds  sweep  ; 

But  Misery  and  I  must  watch 

The  surly  tempest  blow  ; 
And  it's  O,  fickle  Fortune,   O  ! 


aeT.  1 8.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS. 

» 

There  lies  the  dear  partner  of  my  breast; 
Her  cares  for  a  moment  at  rest: 
Must  I  see  thee,  my  youthful  pride, 

Thus  brought  so  very  low! 
And  it's  O,  fickle  Fortune,  O! 

There  lie  my  sweet  babies  in  her  anns; 
No  anxious  fear  their  little  hearts  alarms; 
But  for  their  sake  my  heart  jioes  ache, 
With  many  a  bitter  throe: 
And  it's  O,  fickle  Fortune,  O! 

I  once  was  by  Fortune  carest: 
I  once  could  relieve  the  distrest: 
Now  life's  poor  support,  hardly  eam'd, 

My  fate  will  scarce  bestow: 
And  it's  O,  fickle  Fortune,  O! 

No  comfort,  no  comfort  I  have! 
How  welcome  to  me  were  the  grave! 
But  then  my  wife  and  children  dear — 
O,  whither  would  they  go! 
And  it's  O,  fickle  Fortune,  0! 

O  whither,  O  whither  shall  I  turn! 
All  friendless,  forsaken,  forlorn! 
For,  in  this  world.  Rest  or  Peace 

I  never  more  shall  know! 
And  it's  O,  fickle  Fortune,  O! 


[The  original  of  this  early  production  is  in  the  possession  of 
William  Nelson,  Esq.,  Edinburgh.  It  is  a  stray  leaf  from  a  col- 
lection formerly  known  as  the  Stair  MS.,  now  dissevered  and 
scattered  abroad.  The  "  ruined  farmer  "  here  is  undoubtedly 
meant  as  a  presentment  of  the  author's  father  bravely  struggling 
to   weather   out  his  hard  fate   at   Mount   Oliphaut.      As  a   pathetic 


10  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  [1777. 

dirge,  it    is   the   best   illustration    of  the   following  passage  in  the 
poet's  autobiography  : — 

"  The  farm  proved  a  ruinous  bargain.  .  .  .  My  father  was 
advanced  in  life  when  he  married.  I  was  the  eldest  of  seven 
children,  and  he,  worn  out  by  early  hardship,  was  unfit  for  labour. 
My  father's  spirit  was  soon  irritated,  but  not  easily  broken. 
There  was  a  freedom  in  his  lease  in  two  years  more  ;  and  to 
weather  these  two  years  we  retrenched  expenses,"  Si.c.'] 


TRAGIC    FRAGMENT. 

(From  the  Poet's  MS.  in  the  Monxjment  at  Edinburgh, 
WITH  Heading  from  Cromek,  1808.) 

In  my  early  years,  nothing  less  would  serve  rile  than  court- 
ing the  Tragic  Muse.  I  was,  I  think,  about  eighteen  or  nine- 
teen when  I  sketched  the  outlines  of  a  tragedy  forsooth  ;  but 
the  bursting  of  a  cloud  of  family  misfortunes,  which  had  for 
some  time  threatened  us,  prevented  my  farther  progress.  In 
those  days  I  never  wrote  down  an5^thing  ;  so,  except  a  speech 
or  two,  the  whole  has  escaped  my  memory.  The  following, 
which  I  most  distinctly  remember,  was  an  exclamation  from 
a  great  character — great  in  occasional  instances  of  generosity, 
and  daring  at  times  in  villanies.  He  is  supposed  to  meet 
with  a  child  of  misery,  and  exclaims  to  himself — 

Ali,  villain  as  I  am — a  damned  wretch, 
A  hardened,  stubborn,  unrepenting  sinner, 
Still  my  heart  melts  at  human  wretchedness; 
And  with  sincere  but  unavailing  sighs 
I  view  the  helpless  children  of  distress: 
With  tears  indignant  I  behold  the  oppressor 
Rejoicing  in  the  honest  man's  destruction. 
Whose  unsubmitting  heart  was  all  his  crime.— 
Ev'n  you,  ye  hapless  crew!  I  pity  you; 
Ye,  whom  the  seeming  good  think  sin  to  pity; 
Ye  poor,  despised,  abandoned  vagabonds,, 
Whom  Vice,  as  usual,  has  tum'd  o'er  to  ruin. 


<ET.  19.]  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  It 

» 

Oh !  .  but  for  friends  and  interposing  Heaven, 

I  had  been  driven  forth  like  you  forlorn, 

The  most  detested,  worthless  wretch  among  you! 

O  injured  God!    Thy  goodness  has  endow' d  me 

With  talents  passing  most  of  my  compeers, 

Which  I  in  just  proportion  have  abused — • 

As  far  surpassing  other  common  villains 

As  Thou  in  natural  parts  has  given  me  more. 

[Notwithstanding  the  author's  own  authority  for  classing  the 
foregoing  with  his  very  earliest  efforts  in  poetical  composition,  it 
seems  to  have  undergone  revision  and  amendment  at  a  later 
period.  The  copy  we  print  from  is  perhaps  a  stray  leaf  of  the 
Common-place  Book,  or  manuscript  collection  of  his  early  pieces, 
referred  to  by  Alexander  Smith  as  having  been  presented  by  Burns 
to  Mrs.  Dunlop.  It  varies  somewhat  from  the  copy  inserted  in 
the  original  Common-place  Book  now  at  Greenock.  The  version 
we  adopt  has  the  following  heading — 

A   Fragment  in  the  Hour  of  Remorse,  on  Seeing  a  Fellow-Creature  in 
Misery,  whom  I  had  once  known  in  Better  Days. 

The  "human  wretchedness"  deplored  in  this  pathetic  soliloquy 
was  that  of  the  suffering  household  at  Mount  Oliphant,  which  the 
poet  has  so  touchingly  recorded  in  his  autobiography.  We  have 
in  these  lines  a  glance  at  the  tyrant  factor,  and  his  "insolent 
threatening  epistles,  which  used  to  set  us  all  in  tears," — 

With  "tears  indignant  I  behold  the  oppressor 
Rejoicing  in  the  honest  man's  destruction, 
Whose  unsubmitting  heart  was  all  his  crime, 

in  which  last  line  we  discern  the  "stubborn,  ungainly  integrity" 
of  the  poet's  noble  father.  The  speaker's  sympathy  for  "poor,  de- 
spised, abandoned  vagabonds,"  corresponds  in  spirit  with  that  pas- 
sage in  the  Common-place  Book,  of  date  March,  1784,  where  he  in- 
troduces this  Fragment.  Cromek,  in  1808.  first  published  the 
piece ;  but  his  copy  wants  the  five  closing  lines,  which  accordingly 
we  infer  were  added  by  the  poet  in  1784.  Cromek's  version  was 
printed  from  a  copy  found  among  the  poet's  papers,  headed  with 
the  introductory  narrative  prefixed  to  the  text.  It  is  curious  to 
find  Burns  thus  early  attempting  dramatic  composition  ;  but  it  is 
certain  that  William  Bumess  had  a  few  of  Shakespeare's  plays 
among  the  books  on  his  shelf  at  Mount  Oliphant.] 


12  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1778. 


THE  TARBOIvTON   LASSES. 
(Chambers,  1851.) 

If  ye  gac  up  to  yon  hill-tap^  go        hm-top 

Ye' 11  tliere  see  bonie  Pegg}^; 

Slie  kens  lier  father  is  a  laird^  knows     land-owner 

And  she  forsooth' s  a  leddy.  lady 

There  Sophy  tight,  a  lassie  bright, 

Besides  a  handsome  fortune: 
Wha  caniia  win  her  in  a  night,        ,        who  cannot 

Has  little  art  in  courtin. 

Gae  down  by  Faile,*  and  taste  the  ale, 

And  tak  a  look  o'  Mysie ;  Mana 

She's  dour  and  d{n^   a  deil  within,         suUen  saiiow 

But  aiblins  she  may  please  ye.  hapiy 

If  she  be  shy,   her  sister  try. 

Ye' 11  may  be  fancy  Jenny;  perhaps 

If  ye' 11  dispense  wi'  want  o'  sense— » 

She  kens  hersel  she's  bonie.  knows 

As  ye  gae  up  by  yon  hillside, 

Speer  in  for  bonie  Bessy ;  call  and  inquire 

She'll  gie  ye  a  beck^  and  bid  ye  light,         curtsey 

And  handsomely  address  ye. 

There's  few  sae  bonie,   nane  sa  gidd^     none  so  good 

In  a'   King  George'  dominion; 
If  ye  should  doubt  the  truth  o'   this — 

It's  Bessy's  ain  opinion!  own 

♦Hamlet  of  Faile,  near  Tarbolton. — ^J.  H. 


^aST.  20.]  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  13 

[Here  we  have  a  little  of  the  "satirical  seasoning"  referred  to 
by  David  Sillar,  in  note  to  next  piece,  and  of  which  we  have 
already  seen  a  good  sample  in  his  address  to  "Saucy  Tibbie." 
These  verses,  however,  can  hardly  be  considered  as  a  song,  and 
— as  Chambers  has  observ'ed — they  are  strikingly  inferior  to  the 
poet's  average  efforts.  It  is  rather  singular  that  Chambers  does 
not  state  where  he  got  these  lines,  and  on  what  grounds  he 
became  satisfied  of  their  authenticity.] 


AH,    WOE  IS   ME,    MY  MOTHER  DEAR. 

Paraphrase  of  Jeremiah,  15th  Chap.,  loth  verse. 

« 

(Glenriddell  MSS.,  1874.) 

Ah,  woe  is  me,  my  Mother  dear! 

A  man  of  strife  ye've  born  me: 
For  sair  contention  I  maiui  bear  :       sore     must 

They  hate,  revile,  and  scorn  me; 

I  ne'er  could  lend  on  bill  or  band^  bond 

That  five  per  cent,  might  blest  me ;  have  biest 

And  borrowing,  on  the  tit  her  hand,  other 

The  de''zl  a  aiie  wad  trust  me.    d— 1  a  one  woww 

Yet  I^  a  cohi-denied  wight,  penniless 

By  Fortune  quite  discarded; 
Ye  see  how  I  am,   day  and  night, 

By  lad  and  lass  blackguarded! 

[Bums  in  1785  records  the  remark — "  I  don't  well  know  what 
is  the  reason  of  it,  but  somehow  or  other  though  I  am,  when 
I  have  a  mind,  pretty  generally  beloved  ;  yet  I  never  could  get 
the  art  of  commanding  respects  Again,  referring  to  his  early 
boyhood,  he  says  in  his  autobiography: — "At  those  years,  I  was 
by  no  means  a  favorite  with  anybody."  David  Sillar,  speaking 
of  Bums  in  1781,  says: — "His  social  disposition  easily  procured 
him  acquaintances ;  but  a  certain  satirical  seasoning,  while  it  set 
the  rustic  circle  in  a  roar,  was  not  unaccompanied  by  its  kin- 
dred attendant, — suspicious  fear.     I  recollect  hearing  his  neighbours 


14  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [.^7791 

observe  he  had  a  great  deal  to  say  for  himself,  but  that  they 
suspected  his  principles.  He  wore  the  only  tied  hair  in  the 
parish ;  and  in  the  church,  his  plaid,  which  was  of  a  particular 
colour,  I  think  Jillcniot*  was  wrapped  in  a  particular  manner 
round  his  shoulders."  The  poet's  account  of  himself  in  the  text 
has  suggested  the  above  quotations  ;  but  we  feel  rather  at  a  loss 
to  fix  the  particular  period  of  composition.  The  verses  stand  re- 
corded in  the  Glenriddell  volume  at  Liverpool,  in  the  poet's 
autograph,  without  any  indication  of  date  ;  but  it  may  be  assumed 
that  he  would  be  at  least  twenty-one  years  old  before  he  could 
be   concerned  in    "bills   and   bonds." 

A  corrupt  copy  of  the  verses  occurs  in  the  Et trick  Shepherd's 
Memoir  of  Burns,  1834,  where  they  are  entitled  "Stanzas  com- 
posed while  sitting  between  the  stilts  of  the  plough."  It  seems 
that  Burns  had  inscribed  this  paraphrase  from  Jeremiah  on  the 
fly-leaf  of  his  own  copy  of  Fergusson's  Poems.  That  relic  is  now 
in  the  possession  of  J.  T.  Gibson-Craig,  Esq.,  Edinburgh.  Hogg 
may  have  seen  that  production,  and  quoted  the  words  from 
memory.  The  words  paraphrased  are  as  follows  : — "Woe  is  me,  my 
mother,  thou  hast  bom  me  a  man  of  strife,  and  a  man  of  conten- 
tion to  the  whole  earth.  I  have  neither  lent  on  usury,  nor  men 
have  lent  to  me  on  usury;  yet  every  one  of  them  doth  curse  me."] 


MONTGOMERIE'S  PEGGY. 
(Cromek,  1808.) 

Altho'  my  bed  were  in  yon  muir, 

Amang  the  heather,  in  my  plaidie; 
Yet  happy,  happy  would  I  be, 

Had  I  my  dear  Montgomerie's  Peggy. 

When  o'er  the  hill  beat  surly  storms, 
And  winter  nights  were  dark  and  rainy; 

I'd  seek  some  dell,  and  in  my  arms 
I'd  shelter  dear  Montgomerie's  Peggy. 

Were  I  a  Baron  proud  and  high, 

And  horse  and  servants  waiting  ready; 

Then  a'   Uzvad  gie  d'  joy  to  me, —  'twould  give  oi 

The  sharinH^^  Montgomerie's  Peggy,  sharing  of  it 

•A  yellow-brown  colour — from  feuille  morte,   a  dead  leaf. 


^T.  21.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  15 

• 

[Speaking  of  the  earlier  portion  of  the  seven  years  he  spent  in 
Tarbolton  Parish  (1777  to  1784),  the  poet  says  he  felt  as  much 
pleasure  in  being  in  the  secret  of  half  the  amours  in  the  parish, 
as  ever  did  Premier  in  knowing  the  intrigues  of  half  the  courts  in 
Europe.  "  Montgomerie's  Peggy,"  he  tells  us,  was  a  deity  of  his 
own  for  six  or  eight  months.  "  I  began  the  affair,"  he  says, 
"merely  in  a  gaiete  de  cceiir,  or,  to  tell  the  truth  (what  would 
scarcely  be  believed),  a  vanity  of  showing  my  parts  in  courtship, 
particularly  my  abilities  at  a  billet-doux,  which  I  always  piqued 
myself  upon,  made  me  lay  siege  to  her."  Mrs.  Begg,  in  her  notes 
regarding  this  affair,  says: — "The  lady  was  housekeeper  at  Coils- 
field  House ;  my  brother  Robert  had  met  her  frequently  at  Tar- 
both  Mill ;  they  sat  in  the  same  church,  and  contracted  an  in- 
timacy together  ;  but  she  was  engaged  to  another  before  ever  they 
met.  So,  on  her  part,  it  was  nothing  but  amusement,  and  on 
Burns'  part,  little  more,  from  the  way  he  speaks  of  it."]  (The 
Rev.  Geo.  Gilfillan,  in  his  edition,  says  she  became  Mrs.  Derbi- 
shire,  and  lived  in  Lgndon.— J.  H.) 


THE  PLOUGHMAN'S  LIFE. 
(Cromek,  1808.) 

As  I  was  a- wand' ring  ae  morning  in  spring,  one 

I  heard  a  young  ploughman  sae  sweetly  to  sing;        sa 
And  as  he  was  singin',  thir  words  he  did  say, —     these 
There's  nae  life  like  the  ploughman's  in  the  month  o' 
sweet  May.  no 

lark        from 

The  lav'* rock  in  the  morning  she'll  rise  frae  her  nest. 
And  mount  i'  the  air  wi'  the  dew  on  her  breast, 
And  wi'  the  merry  ploughman  she'll  whistle  and  sing, 
And  at  night  she'll  return  to  her  nest  back  again. 

[Gilbert  Bums  expressed  to  Cromek  a  strong  doubt  regarding 
his  brother's  authorship  of  these  lines,  as  also  of  some  other 
pieces  found  in  his  handwriting,  and  included  with  the  Reliques 
of  the  Poet;  but  as  the  authorship  of  the  "  Bonie  Muirhen  " — one 
of  the  pieces  referred  to — has  been  since  clearly  traced  to  Bums, 
we  do  not  feel  at  liberty  to  reject  the  lines  in  the  text] 


16  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  Il78a 


THE  RONALDS  OF  THE  BENNALS. 
(Chambers,  1851.) 

In  Tarbolton,  ye  ken^  there  are  proper  young  men, know 

And  proper  young  lasses  and  a',  man; 
But  ken  ye  the  Ronalds  that  live  in  the  Bennals, 

They  carry  the  gree  frae  them  a',*  man. 

Their  father's  a  laird^  and  weel  he  can  spare' t,  land-owner 
Braid  money  to  tocher  them  a',  man;         broad     dower 

To  proper  young  men,  he'll  clijtk  in  the  hand  count 
Gowd  guineas  a  hundred  or  twa,  man.  gold 

There's  ane  they  cd'  Jean,  I'll  warrant  ye've  seen  can 
As  bonie  a  lass  or  as  braw^  man ;  finely  dressed 

But  for  sense  and  guid  taste  she'll  vie  wi'  the  best, 
And  a  conduct  that  beautifies  a',  man. 

The  channs  o'  the  mill'  ^  the  langer  they  shine,  mind 
The  niair  admiration  they  draw,  man;  more 

While  peaches  and  cherries,  and  roses  and  lilies, 
They  fade  and  they  wither  awa,  man. 

If  ye  be  for  Miss  Jean,  tak  \h\s  frae  a  frieft'   from  a  friend 

A  hint  o'  a  rival  or  twa,  man; 
The  Laird  o'  Blackbyre  wad  gang  through  the  fire. 

If  that  wad  entice  her  awa,  man.  would  go 

The  Laird  o'  Braehead  has  been  on  his  speed. 

For  mair  than  a  tounnond  or  twa,  man;       twelvemonths 

The  Laird  o'  the  Ford  will  straught  on  a  board^  be  laid  out 
If  he  canna  get  her  at  a',  man.  cannot  ^^^ 


*Bcar  the  palm  from  them  all. 


i^.  22. J  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  17 

» 

Then  Anna  comes  in,  tlie  pride  o'  her  kin, 

The  boast  of  our  bachelors  a',  man: 
Sae  sonsy  and  sweet,  sae  fully  complete,  buxom 

She  steals  our  affections  awa,  man. 

If  I  should  detail  the  pick  and  the  wale  choice 

O'  lasses  that  live  hereawa^  man,  hereabout 

The  y«z^V  wad  be  mine  if  they  didna  shine  fault 
The  sweetest  and  best  o'  them  a',  man. 

I  lo'e  her  mysel,  but  dare7ia  zvcel  tell,  dare  not  weii 

My  poverty  keeps  me  in  awe,  man; 

For  making  o'  rhymes,  and  working  at  times, 

Does  little  or  naething  at  a' ,  man.  ^nothing  at  aii 

Yet  I  wadna  choose  to  let  her  refuse,  would  not 

Nor  hae' t  in  her  power  to  say  na,  man:  have  it 

For  though  I  be  poor,  unnoticed,  obscure, 
My  stomach's  as  proud  as  them  a',  man. 

Though  I  canna  ride  in  weel-booted  pride. 

And  flee  o'er  the  hills  like  a  craw^  man,  crow 

I  can  haud  up  my  head  wi'  the  best  o'  the  breed,  hold 

Though  fluttering  ever  so  braw^  man.  fine 

My  coat  and  my  vest,  they  are  Scotch  o'  the  best, 
O'  pairs  o'  guid  brceks  I  hae  twa,  man;      breeches  have 

And  stockings  and  pumps  to  put  on  my  stumps. 
And  ne'er  a  wrang  steek  in  them  a',  man.  stitch 

My  sa7'ks  they  are  few,  but  five  o'  them  new,  shirts 

Twal'  hundred,*  as  white  as  the  snaw,  man, 

A  ten-shillings  hat,  a  Holland  cravat; 

There  are  no  mony  poets  sae  braw^  man.  fine 

*  Woven   in  a  reed  of  1200  divisions,  and   therefore   considerably  coarser  than 
the  "  1700  linen  "  spoken  of  in   Tarn  o'  Shanter. 

J.  6 


18  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1780. 

II       -I     r  7       /       7  •,     •  friends  well  sup-  t 

never  had  /reens  ivecL  stockit  iit  means,       pHed  with     j 

To  leave  me  a  hundred  or  twa,   man  :  „     ^ 

'  '  well-     ^ 

Nae  weel-tocher-''  d  aunts,  to  wait  on  their  drants^  dower'd  |- 
And  wish  them  in  hell  for  it  a',   man.  ^  ^^^ 

I  never  was  caiinie  for  hoarding  o'  money,  prudent 

Or  claiightin  '/  together  at  a',  man;  grasping  it 

I've  little  to  spend,  and  nae  thing  to  lend, 

But  deevil  a  shilling  I  awe^  man.  owe 

[The  Bennals  is  a  farm  in  the  western  part  of  the  parish  of  Tar- 
bolton,  near  Afton  Lodge,  about  five  miles  from  Lochlea.  The  two 
young  women  spoken  of  in  this  piece  were  the  predominant  belles 
of  the  district;  being  good-looking,  fairly  educated,  and  the  children 
of  a  man  reputed  wealthy.  Gilbert  Bums  wooed  the  elder  sister, 
Jeanie  Ronald,  who,  after  a  lengthened  correspondence,  refused  him 
on  account  of  his  poverty.  She  became  the  wife  of^John  Reid,  a 
farmer  at  L/anglands,  not  far  from  the  Bennals.  The  younger 
sister,  Annie,  appears  to  have  taken  the  poet's  fancy  a  little;  but 
he  was  too  proud  to  afford  her  a  chance  of  refusing  him. 

A  few  years  after  this  period,  one  of  the  bard's  letters  gives  us  a 
glimpse  of  the  "ups  and  downs  of  life"  in  connection  with  the 
Ronalds  of  the  Bentials.  Writing  to  his  brother  William  in 
November,  1789,  he  says: — "The  only  Ayrshire  news  that  I  remem- 
ber in  which  I  think  you  will  be  interested,  is  that  Mr.  Ronald  is 
bankrupt.  You  will  easily  guess,  that  from  his  insolent  vanity  in 
his  sunshine  of  life,  he  will  feel  a  little  retaliation  from  those  who 
thought  themselves  eclipsed  by  him." 

Chambers  has  neglected  to  state  whence  he  derived  these  verses; 
he  merely  indicates  that  they  had  appeared  fugitively  somewhere 
before  he  gave  them  a  fixed  place  among  the  author's  works. 
The  small  lairdships  referred  to  in  the  fifth  and  sixth  verses  can- 
not be  found  in  the  Ordnance  Map  of  Tarbolton  parish;  but  more 
than  one  "Braehead"  appears  in  the  neighbouring  parishes. 
"Ford"  may  be  a  contraction  of  Failford,  near  Tarbolton.] 


SONG— HERE'S  TO  THY  HEAI.TH. 

(Johnson's  Museum,  1796.) 

Here's  to  thy  health,  my  bonie  lass, 
Gude  night  and  joy  be  wi'  thee ; 


/fiT.  22.  J  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  19 

» 
I'll  cotne  nac  mair  to  thy  bower-door,  no  more 

To  tell  tliee  that  \  lo'c  thee.  love 

0  dinna  think,  my  pretty  pink,  do  not 
But  I  can  live  without  thee: 

1  vow  and  swear  I  dinna  care, 
How  lang  ye  look  about  ye. 

Tliou'rt  ay  sae  free  informing  me, 

Thou  hast  nae  mind  to  marry; 
I'll  be  as  free  informing  thee, 

Nae  time  hac  I  to  tarry:  hare 

I  ke7i  thy  freens  \xy  ilka  means        know  friends   every 

Frac  wedlock  to  delay  thee;  from 

Depending  on  some  higher  chance, 

But  fortune  may  betray  thee. 

I  ken  they  scorn  my  low  estate. 

But  that  does  never  grieve  me; 
For  I'm  as  free  as  any  he;  man 

Smd'  siller  will  relieve  me.  little 

I'll  count  my  health  my  greatest  wealth, 

Sae  lang  as  I'll  enjoy  it; 
I'll  fear  nae  scanty  I'll  bode  nae  want,     scarcity  forbode 

As  lang's  as  I  get  employment. 

But  far  off  fowls  hae  feathers  fair, 

And,  ay  until  ye  try  them, 
Tho'  they  seem  fair,  still  have  a  care; 

They  may  prove  as  bad  as  I  am. 
But  at  twal  at  night,  when  the  moon  shines  bright, 

My  dear,  I'll  come  and  see  thee; 
For  the  man  that  loves  his  mistress  weel, 

Nae  travel  makes  him  weary. 

[Against  our  own  instincts,  we  were  at  one  time  disposed  to  ex- 
clude this  production  from  Burns'  collected  pieces,  in  deference  to 
the  dictum  of  his  sister,  Mrs.  Bcift^,  who  pronounced  it  to  be  one 
of  those  familiar  ditties  commonly  sung  at  rural  firesides  before 
his  efforts  in  that  way  were  known.     The  poet  sent  the  song,  along 


20  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1780. 

with,  its  very  sprightly  melody,  to  Johnson  at  some  unascertained 
period;  but  it  did  not  appear  in  the  Museum  till  the  year  of  the 
author's  death,  and  his  name  is  there  attached  to  it.  The  words 
are  not  found  in  any  collection  of  date  prior  to  their  publication 
in  Johnson's  work;  and  as  Mrs.  Begg  would  be  no  more  than  ten 
years  old  when,  as  we  conjecture,  this  song  was  composed  by  her 
brother,  she  might  naturally,  at  some  after  period,  mistake  it  for 
an  old  song.  It  is  in  every  respect  characteristic  of  Bums'  manner 
and  sentiments  in  early  manhood;  and  the  strathspey  tune  to 
which  it  is  set,  suggests  his  early  dancing-school  experiences,  and 
the  occasional  balls  of  the  Tarbolton  Bachelors.] 


THE  I.ASS  OF  CESSNOCK    BANKS.* 

(Ai^DiNE  Ed.,  1839.) 

On  Cessnock  banks  a  lassie  dwells,'^ 
Could  I  describe  her  shape  and  mien; 

Our  lasses  a'  she  far  excels, 

An'  she  has  twa  sparkling  rogneish  een.         eyea 

She's  sweeter  than  the  morning  dawn, 

When  rising  Phoebus  first  is  seen; 
And  dew-drops  twinkle  o'er  the  lawn; 

An'  she  has  twa  sparkling  rogneish  een. 

She's  stately  like  yon  youthful  ash, 

That  grows  the  cowslip  braes  between,        height 
And  drinks  the  stream  with  vigour  fresh; 

An'  she  has  twa  sparkling  rogneish  een. 

She's  spotless  like  the  flow' ring  thorn, 
With  flow'rs  so  white  and  leaves  so  green, 

When  purest  in  the  dewy  mom; 

An'  she  has  twa  sparkling  rogneish  een. 


*Ces»nock  "  Water,"  flows  from  the  southeast,  passes  close  by  Mauchline  and 
Mossgiel,  and  falls  into  the  Irvine  about  midway  between  Kilmarnock  an<} 
Galston.— J.  H. 


«T.  22.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  21 

♦ 
Her  looks  are  like  the  vernal  May, 

When  ev'ning  Phoebus  shines  serene; 
While  birds  rejoice  on  every  spray; 

An'  she  has  twa  sparkling  rogueish  een. 

Her  hair  Is  like  the  curling  mist, 

That  climbs  the  mountain-sides  at  e'en, 

When  flow'r-reviving  rains  are  past; 

An'  she  has  twa  sparkling  rogueish  een. 

Her  forehead's  like  the  show'ry  bow. 
When  gleaming  sunbeams  intervene 

And  gild  the  distant  mountain's  brow; 
An'  she  has  twa  sparkling  rogueish  een. 

Her  cheeks  are  like  yon  crimson  gem, 
The  pride  of  all  the  flowery  scene, 

Just  opening  on  its  thorny  stem; 

An'  she  has  twa  sparkling  rogueish  een. 

Her  bosom's  like  the  nightly  snow, 
When  pale  the  morning  rises  keen; 

While  hid  the  murm'ring  streamlets  flow; 
An'  she  has  twa  sparkling  rogueish  een. 

Her  lips  are  like  yoji  cherries  ripe,  yond« 

That  sunny  walls  from  Boreas  screen; 

They  tempt  the  taste  and  charm  the  sight; 
An'  she  has  twa  sparkling  rogueish  een. 

Her  teeth  are  like  a  flock  of  sheep, 

With  fleeces  newly  waslien   clean; 
That  slowly  mount  the  rising  steep; 

An'  she  has  twa  sparkling  rogueish  een. 


22  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1780 

Her  breath  is  like  the  fragrant  breeze, 
That  gently  stirs  the  blossom' d  bean; 

When  Phcebus  sinks  behind  the  seas ; 
An'  she  has  twa  sparkling  rogueish  een. 

Her  voice  is  like  the  ev'ning  thrush, 
That  sings  on  Cessnock  banks  unseen ; 

While  his  mate  sits  nestling  in  the  bush; 
An'  she  has  twa  sparkling  rogueish  een. 

But  it's  not  her  air,  her  form,  her  face, 
Tho'  matching  beauty's  fabled  queen ; 

'Tis  the  mind  that  shines  in  ev'ry  grace, 
An'  chiefly  in  her  rogueish  een. 

[This  must  have  been  composed  just  before  the  poet's  short 
sojourn  in  the  town  of  Irvine.  He  was  passionately  in  love 
with  the  subject  of  this  poem,  or  "Song  of  Similes,"  as  it  has 
been  called.  Her  name  was  Ellison  Begbie,  her  father  being  a 
small  farmer  in  Galstou  parish,  and  she  herself  at  that  time  in 
service  with  a  family  who  resided  near  Cessnock  water,  about 
two  miles  northeast  from  I<ochlea.  Burns  has  made  no  distinct 
reference  to  her  in  his  autobiography,  although  she  seems  to 
have  been  the  heroine  of  a  few  of  his  most  admired  lyrics. 
His  sister,  Mrs.  Begg,  about  thirty  years  ago,  first  revealed  the 
fact  that  the  four  love-letters  to  "  My  dear  E."  in  Currie's  first 
edition  (and  which  were  witlidrawn  from  subsequent  issues  of 
that  work)  were  addressed  to  Ellison  Begbie,  who,  after  some 
intimacy  and  correspondence,  rejected  his  suit,  and  soon  married 
another  lover.  Referring  to  his  desponding  condition  at  Irvine, 
he  writes  : — ' '  To  crown  my  distress,  a  belle-fille  whom  I  adored, 
and  who  had  pledged  her  soul  to  meet  me  in  the  field  of  matri- 
mony, jilted  me  with  peculiar  circumstances  of  mortification." 
This  misleading  allusion,  viewed  in  connection  with  the  letters  he 
addressed  to  her,  and  with  what  he  had  written  in  his  Common- 
place Book  about  "  Moutgomerie's  Peggy,"  created  much  confu- 
sion in  the  minds  of  the  poet's  annotators,  until  Mrs.  Begg  set 
these   matters  right. 

As  might  be  predicated  of  one  who  could  inspire  sentiments  and 
imagery  like  those  contained  in  these  verses,  the  subject  of  them 
is  described  by  the  poet's  sister  as  having  been  a  superior  person, 
and  a  general   favourite  in  her  neighbourhood.     Bums  himself,    in 


^T.  22.]  ^  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  23 

one  of  iiis  letters,  thus  addresses  her  : — "  All  these  charming 
qualities,  heightened  by  an  education  much  beyond  anything  I 
have  ever  met  in  any  woman  I  ever  dared  to  approach,  have 
made  an  impression  on  my  heart  that  I  do  not  think  the  world 
can  ever  efface." 

Cromek,  in  1808,  first  made  the  world  acquainted  with  this 
production,  in  a  somewhat  imperfect  form.  He  traced  out  the 
subject  of  it  as  a  married  lady  resident  in  Glasgow,  and  from 
her  own  lips  noted  down  the  words  to  the  extent  of  her  recol- 
lection. Pickering's  version,  here  given,  was  printed  from  the 
poet's  manuscript,  recovered  from  some  other  source.  A  whole 
stanza  is  devoted  to  each  of  her  charms,  commencing  with  her 
"twa  sparkling  rogueish  een,"  and  embracing  every  personal  and 
mental  grace.  At  verse  six  he  comes  to  her  hair,  and  there- 
after in  succession  he  descants  on  her  forehead,  her  cheeks,  her 
bosom,  her  lips,  her  teeth,  her  breath,  her  voice,  and  lastly  her 
■mind.  At  verse  nine,  through  an  awkward  inadvertency  in 
transcribing,  he  sets  down  "Her  teeth"  instead  of  "Her  bosom," 
to  which  the  similitude  used  very  appropriately  applies  ;  and  the 
teeth  of  his  charmer  have  full  justice  done  them  in  stanza  eleven. 
This  slip  of  the  pen  on  the  transcriber's  part  we  have  here  cor^ 
rected.  In  the  MS.  the  author  has  directed  the  words  to  be 
sung  to  the  tune  of  "If  he  be  a  butcher  neat  and  trim" — what- 
ever that  air  may  be ;  which  confirms  his  own  statement  that  he 
could  never  compose  a  Ij'ric  without  crooning  a  melody  in  his 
mind,  to  aid  his  inspiration  and  regulate  the  rhythm  of  his 
verses.] 


SONG— BONIE  PEGGY  ALISON. 

Tune — "The  Braes  o'  Balquhidder." 
(Johnson's  Museum,  1788.) 

Chor. — And  I'll  kis.s  thee  yet,  yet, 

And  I'll  kiss  thee  o'er  again; 
And  I'll  kiss  thee  yet,   yet, 
My  bonie  Peggy  Alison. 

lik  care  and  fear  when  thou  art  near,  each 

I  ever  mair  defy  them,  O ! 


24  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1780. 

Young  kings  upon  their  hansel  throne  * 
Are  no  sae  blest  as  I  am,  O ! 

And  ril  kiss  thee  yet,  yet,   &:c. 

When  in  my  arms,  wi'  a'  thy  charms, 
I  clasp  my  countless  treasure,  O ! 

I  seek  iiae  mair  o'   Heaven  to  share  no  more 

Than  sic  a  moment's  pleasure,  O  !  such 

And  I'll  kiss  thee  yet,  yet,  &c. 

And  by  thy  ecu  sae  bonie  blue,  eyes  so 

I  swear  I'  m  thine  for  ever,  O ! 
And  on  thy  lips  I  seal  my  vow. 

And  break  it  shall  I  never,  O! 

And  I'll  kiss  thee  yet,  yet,  &c. 

[This  and  the  song  which  immediately  follows  {Mary  Morison) 
long  went  wandering  in  search  of  the  li\ang  originals  ;  but  no  fair 
damsels  nor  sonsie  lasses  in  the  parish  of  Tarbolton,  bearing  such 
names,  were  ever  heard  of.  The  poet,  in  sending  the  latter  song 
to  George  Thomson,  expressly  told  him  it  was  "a  juvenile  produc- 
tion; "  and  as  he  at  the  same  time  admitted  that  all  his  earlier 
love-songs  were  the  breathings  of  real  passion — a  legend  of  his 
heart  being  inscribed  on  each  of  them — a  "heroine-hunt"  for  the 
inspirers  of  them  was  the  eventful  result.  Gilbert  Bums  was 
applied  to  for  information  regarding  3Iary  Morison,  and  he  replied 
that  she  was  also  the  subject  of  some  light  verses,  beginning, 
"And  I'll  kiss  thee  yet."  This  clue  suggested  to  the  present 
writer  that  the  poet  had  simply  disguised  these  juvenile  produc- 
tions by  altering  the  names  a  little.  Mrs.  Begg's  information  re- 
garding her  brother's  earnest  passion  for  the  Lass  of  Cessnock 
Batiks — Ellison,  or  Alison  Begbie,  by  name — started  the  natural 
idea  that  Burns  must  have  attempted  to  weave  her  name  into 
some  snatch  of  song.  Her  surname,  however,  being  so  very 
prosaic  and  untunable,  what  was  a  poor  poet  to  do  ?  His  object 
could  be  attained  only  by  compromise,  and  that  might  be  accom- 
plished to  some  extent  by  transposing  Alison  Begbie  into  "  Peggy 
Alison."      Let  us   take   for    granted   that   such   was  the    case   with 

*  "Hansel"  means  Xh&  first-fyiiil  of  an  achievement,  or  of  a  particular  field,  or 
season  ;  hence  a  gift  at  some  particular  season,  at  the  New  Year,  or  on  some 
particular  orr.-ision,  is  so  called.  The  term  "  maiden  throne"  would  explain  the 
poet's  phras*   bere. — J.  H. 


fS^t.  22.]  ^  POEMvS    AND   SONGS.  25 

the  song  in  our  text,  and  then  it  follows  that  Ellison  Begbic  was 
also  the  inspirer  of  its  charming  companion-song,  Mary  3Iorison. 
The  character  of  "My  dear  E,"  is  displayed  in  every  line  of   it: — 

A  thought  ungentle  canna  be 
The  thought  of  Peggy  Allison. 

Only  the  two  latter  stanzas  of  the  text,  with  the  chorus,  are 
given  in  Johnson's  publication.  The  opening  verse  is  from 
Cromek  (1808).  Stephen  Clarke,  the  musical  editor  of  the 
Museum,  inscribed  on  the  printer's  copy  of  the  music  his  feelings 
in  these  words: — "I  am  charmed  with  this  song  almost  as  much 
as  the  lover  is  with  Peggy  Alison."] 


SONG— MARY  MORISON. 

(CURRIE,    1800.) 

0  Mary,  at  thy  window  be, 

It  is  the  wish'd,   the  trystcd  hour  !  appointed 

Those  smiles  and  glances  let  me  see. 
That  make  the  miser's  treasure  poor  : 

How  blythely  wad  I    bide  the  StOUre^        endure  the  turmoil 

A  weary  slave  frae  snn  to  sun,  from 

Could  I  the  rich  reward  secure, 
The  lovely  Mary  Morison. 

Yestreen^  when  to  the  trembling  string       yester-even 
The  dance  gaed  thro'   the  lighted  ha',  went 

To  thee  my  fancy  took  its  wing, 
I  sat,  but  neither  heard  nor  saw: 

Tho'   this  was  fair,   and  that  was  braw^  gay 

And  yon  the  toast  of  a'  the  town, 

1  sigh'd,  and  said  amang  them  a', 

' '  Ye  are  7id  Mary  Morison. ' '  not 

Oh,  Mary,  canst  thou  wreck  his  peace, 

Wha  for  thy  sake  wad  gladly  die?  would 

Or  canst  thou  break  that  heart  of  his, 

Whase  only  faut  is  loving  thee  ?  whose      fault 


26  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1781. 

If  love  for  love  thou  wilt  na  gie^  not  give 

At  least  be  pity  to  me  shown; 
A  thought  ungentle  caiiiia  be  cannot 

The  thought  o'   Mary  Morison." 

[The  long  note  to  the  preceding  song  will  help  to  shorten 
this  one,  as  it  is  held  to  apply  to  the  same  subject.  The  "tremb- 
ling string,"  and  the  "I'ghted  ha'"  of  the  second  stanza  could 
in  reality  refer  only  to  the  earnest  efforts  of  a  poor  fiddler  at 
a  village  practising  on  the  sanded  floor  of  some  school-room ; 
yet  see  how  the  poet's  fancy  can  "take  its  wing,"  and  exalt 
the  commonest  object.  Hazlitt  says,  in  respect  to  this  lyric, — 
"Of  all  the  productions  of  Burns,  the  pathetic  and  serious  love- 
songs  which  he  has  left  behind  him,  in  the  manner  of  old  ballads, 
are  perhaps  those  which  take  the  deepest  and  most  lasting  hold  of 
the  mind.  Such  are  the  lines  to  'Mary  Morison,'  those  beginning 
'  Here's  a  health  to  ane  I  loe  dear ; '  and  the  song  '  O  my  love  is 
like  a  red,  red  rose.'  " 

The  tune  to  which  the  poet  composed  this  song  was  "Duncan 
Davidson  "  which  is  capable  of  much  pathos  when  performed  in  slow 
time.  However,  that  air  having  been  already  well-suited  with 
"canty"  words,  the  late  John  Wilson,  Scottish  vocalist,  conferred 
an  accession  of  popularity  to  BTary  Morison  by  wedding  her  to 
"The  Miller,"  a  beautiful  tune  of  the  same  character  as  that 
selected  by  Burns.] 


WINTER:  A  DIRGE. 

(KlI^MARNOCK    Ed.,     1786.) 

As  I  am  what  the  men  of  the  world,  if  they  knew  of  such 
a  man,  would  call  a  whimsical  mortal,  I  have  various  sources 
of  pleasure  and  enjoyment  which  are  in  a  manner  peculiar 
to  myself,  or  some  here  and  there  such  other  out-of-the-way 
person.  Such  is  the  peculiar  pleasure  I  take  in  the  season  of 
Winter  more  than  the  rest  of  the  year.  This,  I  believe, 
may  be  partly  owing  to  my  misfortunes  giving  my  mind  a 
melancholy  cast;  but  there  is  something  even  in  the 

Mighty  tempest  and  the  hoary  waste 

Abrupt  and  deep  stretch'd  o'er  the  buried  earth, 

which  raises    the  mind    to  a  serious  sublimity,   favorable    to 
every  thing  great  and  noble.      There  is  scarcely  any  earthly 


m.t.  22.]  .  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  27 

• 
object  gives  me  more — I  don't  know  if  I  should  call  it  plea- 
sure, but  something  which  exalts  me,  something  which  enrap- 
tures me,  than  to  walk  in  the  sheltered  side  of  a  wood  or 
high  plantation  in  a  cloudy  winter  day,  and  hear  a  stonnj' 
wind  howling  among  the  trees  and  raving  o'er  the  plain. 
It  is  my  best  season  for  devotion;  my  mind  is  rapt  up  in 
a  kind  of  enthusiasm  to  Him  who,  in  the  pompous  language 
of  Scripture,  ' '  walks  on  the  wings  of  the  wind. ' '  In  one 
of  these  seasons,  just  after  a  tract  of  misfortunes,  I  com- 
posed the  following  song, — Tune,  "  M'Pherson's  Farewell." — 
Conmion-place  Book,  April,  iy8^. 

The  wintry  west  extends  his  blast, 

And  hail  and  rain  does  blaw;  blow 

Or,  the  stormy  north  sends  driving  forth 

The  blinding-  sleet  and  snaw:  snow 

While,  tumbling  brown,  the  burn  comes  down,     rivuiet 

And  roars  frae  bank  to  bt'ae;  from      height 

And  bird  and  beast  in  covert  rest, 

And  pass  the  heartless  day. 

"The  sweeping  blast,  the  sky  o'ercast,"* 

The  joyless  winter  day 
Let  others  fear,  to  me  more  dear 

Than  all  the  pride  of  May: 
The  tempest's  howl,   it  soothes  my  soul, 

My  griefs  it  seems  to  join ; 
The  leafless  trees  my  fancy  please, 

Their  fate  resembles  mine ! 

Thou  Power  Supreme  whose  mighty  scheme 

These  woes  of  mine  fulfil, 
Here,  finn  I  rest;  they  must  be  best. 

Because  they  are  Thy  will ! 
Then  all  I  want — O  do  Thou  grant 

This  one  request  of  mine  ! — 
Since  to  enjoy  Thou  dost  deny, 

Assist   me    to    resig^t.  to  be  resigrned 

*Dr.  Young.— i?.  B. 


28  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1781. 

[We  concur  with  Chambers  in  assigning  the  date  of  this  piece 
to  the  time  of  the  poet's  residence  in  Irvine,  during  the  winter 
of  1781-82.  Writing  in  April,  1784,  the  author  tells  us  that  he  com- 
posed it  at  the  period  referred  to  in  his  head-note  to  the  fol- 
lowing Prayer,  "just  after  a  tract  of  misfortunes."  This  corre- 
sponds with  the  tone  of  his  melancholy  letter  to  his  father, 
written  from  Irvine,  and  also  with  what  he  narrates  in  his 
autobiography,  of  his  partner  in  trade  having  robbed  him,  and 
his  flax-dressing  shop,  taking  fire  on  New  Year's  morning,  1782. 
by   which   he   was   left   "like  a  true  poet,  not   worth  a  sixpence."] 


A  PRAYER    UNDER    THE    PRESSURE    OF 
VIOLENT    ANGUISH. 

(Edinburgh  Ed.,  1787.) 

There  was  a  certain  period  of  my  life  that  my  spirit  was 
broke  by  repeated  losses  and  disasters,  which  threatened  and 
indeed  eflfected  the  ntter  ruin  of  m}'  fortune.  My  bod}-,  too, 
was  attacked  by  that  most  dreadful  distemper,  a  h3^pochondria 
or  confirmed  melancholy;  in  this  wretched  state,  the  recollec- 
tion of  which  makes  me  yet  shudder,  I  hung  my  harp  on 
the  willow  trees,  except  in  some  lucid  intervals,  in  one  of 
which  I  composed  the   following: — 

O  Thou  Great  Being!   what  Thou  art, 

Surpasses  me  to  know; 
Yet  sure  I  am,   that  known  to  Thee 

Are  all  Thy  works  below. 

Thy  creature  here  before  Thee  stands, 

All  wretched  and  distrest; 
Yet  sure  those  ills  that  wring  my  soul 

Obey  Thy  high  behest. 

Sure  Thou,  Almighty,  canst  not  act 

From  cruelty  or  wrath  ! 
O,  free  my  weary  eyes  from  tears, 

Or  close  them  fast  in  death! 


fltr.  23.]  ^  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  29 

But,   if  I  must  afflicted  be, 

To  suit  some  wise  design; 
Then  man  my  soul  with  firm  resolves, 

To  bear  and  not  repine ! 

[The  composition  of  these  verses  must  be  assigned  to  the  same 
period  as  that  of  the  foregoing.  Writing  in  December,  17S7,  to 
his  Irvine  acquaintance,  Richard  Brown,  the  poet  thus  remarked: 
■— "  Do  you  recollect  the  Sunday  we  spent  together  in  Eglinton 
woods  ?  You  told  me,  on  my  repeating  some  verses  to  you, 
that  you  wondered  I  could  resist  the  temptation  .of  sending  verses 
of  such  merit  to  a  magazine.  It  was  from  this  remark  I  de- 
rived that  idea  of  my  own  pieces  which  encouraged  me  to  en- 
deavour at  the   character  of  a  poet."] 


PARAPHRASE  OF  THE  FIRST  PSAI^M. 
(Edinburgh  Ed.,  1787.) 

The  man  in  life  wherever  plac'd, 

Hath  happiness  in  store, 
Who  walks  not  in  the  wicked's  way, 

Nor  learns  their  guilty  lore  ! 

Nor  from  the  seat  of  scornful  pride 
Casts  forth  his  eyes  abroad, 

But  with  humility  and  awe 
Still  walks  before  his  God. 

That  man  shall  flourish  like  the  trees, 
Which  by  the  streamlets  grow  ; 

The  fruitful  top  is  spread  on  high, 
And  firm  the  root  below. 

But  he  whose  blossom  buds  in  guilt 
Shall  to  the  ground  be  cast, 

And,  like  the  rootless  stubble,  tost 
Before  the  sweeping  blast 


30  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1781, 

For  why  ?  that  God  the  good  adore, 
Hath  giv'n  them  peace  and  rest, 

But  hath  decreed  that  wicked  men 
Shall  ne'er   be  truly  blest, 

[This   and   the   Psalm  immediately   followug  evidently  belong  to 
the  same  period  of  the  author's  life  as  the  two  preceding  pieces.] 


THE  FIRST  SIX  VERSES  OF  THE  NINETIETH 
PSAEM  VERSIFIED. 

(Edinburgh  Ed.,  1787.) 

O  Thou,  the  first,  the  greatest  friend 
Of  all  the  human  race  !  "* 

Whose  strong  right  hand  has  ever  been 
Their  stay  and  dwelling-place  ! 

Before  the  moim tains  heav'd  their  heads 

Beneath  Thy  fonning  hand. 
Before  this  ponderous  globe  itself, 

Arose  at  Thy  command  ; 

That  Pow'r  which  rais'd  and  still  upholds 

This  universal  frame. 
From  countless,  unbeginning  time 

Was  ever  still  the  same. 

Those  mighty  periods  of  years 

Which  seem  to  us  so  vast, 
Appear  no  more  before  thy  sight 

Than  yesterday  that's  past. 

Thou  giv'st  the  w^ord :  Thy  creature,  man, 

Is  to  existence  brought ; 
Again  Thou  says'  t,   "Ye  sons  of  men, 

Return  ye  into  nought ! ' ' 


«T.  23.]  p  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  31 

Thou  layest  tliem,  with  all  their  cares, 

In  everlasting  sleep  ; 
As  with  a  flood  Thou  tak'st  them  oflf 

With  overwhelming  sweep. 

They  flourish  like  the  morning  flow'r, 

In  beauty's  pride  array' d  ; 
But  long  ere  night — cut  down,  it  lies 

All  wither'd  and  decay'd. 


A  PRAYER    IN  THE    PROSPECT    OF   DEATH, 

(KiivMARNOCK  Ed.,  17S6.) 

O  Thou  unknown,  Almighty  Cause 

Of  all  my  hope  and  fear ! 
In  whose  dread  presence,  ere  an  hour, 

Perhaps  I  must  appear ! 

If  I  have  wander' d  in  those  paths 

Of  life  I  ought  to  shun — 
As  something  loudly  in  my  breast. 

Remonstrates  I  have  done — 

Thou  know'st  that  Thou  hast  formed  me 

With  passions  wild  and  strong; 
And  list'ning  to  their  witching  voice 

Has  often  led  me  wrong. 

Where  human  weakness  has  come  short. 

Or  frailty  stept  aside. 
Do  Thou,  All-Good— for  such  Thou  art— 

In  shades  of  darkness  hide. 


32  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [178L 

Where  with  intention  I  have  err'd, 

No  other  plea  I  have, 
But,  Thou  art  good;  and  Goodness  still 

Delighteth  to  forgive. 

[This  composition  appears,  under  the  date  of  August,  1784,  in 
the  Common-place  Book,  as  "A  Prayer  when  fainting  fits  and 
other  alarming  symptoms  of  a  pleurisy,  or  some  other  dangerous 
disorder,  which  indeed  still  threaten  me,  first  put  nature  on  the 
alarm."  These  words  distinctly  point  back  to  a  date  more  or 
less  remote ;  consequently  those  editors  who  have  assumed  this 
Prayer  and  its  relative  prose  passage  to  apply  to  the  Mossgiel 
period  of  the  author's  life  are  at  fault  in  their  chronology.  The 
verses  are  marked  by  extraordinary  vigour,  and  have  been  much 
criticised  by  those  who  will  be  content  with  no  religious  poetry, 
except  such  as  deals  in  substitutional  salvation.] 

(Chambers  gives  the  date  as  1784.  The  style  of  composition 
is  very  far  superior  to  and  more  finished  than  anything  in  his 
Mount  Oliphant  period.  It  seems  to  me  to  be  quite  in  keeping 
with  his  twenty-fifth  year.  The  second  and  third  stanzas  es- 
pecially are  not  the  expressions  of  a  mere  youth.  It  was  at 
Lochlea,  says  Gilbert  Burns,  that  "the  foundation  was  laid  of 
certain  habits  in  my  brother's  character,  which  afterwards  became 
but  too  prominent."  This  poem  was  written,  then,  at  least  a 
considerable  time  after  he  went  to  Lochlea,  and  quite  probably 
when  he  was  at  Mossgiel. — J.  H.) 


STANZAS,    ON  THE  SAME  OCCASION. 
(Edinburgh  Ed.,  1787.) 

Why  am  T  loth  to  leave  this  earthly  scene? 

Have  I  so  found  it  full  of  pleasing  channs — 
Some  drops  of  joy  with  draughts  of  ill  between — 

Some  gleams  of  sunshine  '  mid  renewing  storms  ? 
Is  it  departing  pangs  my  soul  alarms  ? 

Or  death's  unlovely,  dreary,  dark  abode? 
For  guilt,   for  guilt,  my  terrors  are  in  arms: 

I  tremble  to  approach  an  angry  God, 
And  justly  smart  beneath  His  sin-avenging  rod. 


^T.  23.]  ^  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  33 

Fain  would  I  say,  "Forgive  my  foul  offence !" 

Fain  promise  never  more  to  disobey; 
But,  should  my  Author  health  again  dispense, 

Again  I  might  desert  fair  virtue's  way; 
Again  in  folly's  path  might  go  astray; 

Again  exalt  the  brute  and  sink  the  man  ; 
Then  how  should  I  for  heavenly  mercy  pray, 

Who  act  so  counter  heavenly  mercy's  plan? 
Who  sin  so  oft  have  mourn' d,  yet  to  temptation   ran? 


O  Thou  great  Governor  of  all  below ! 

If  I  may  dare  a  lifted  eye  to  Thee, 
Thy  nod  can  make  the  tempest  cease  to  blow, 

Or  still  the  tumult  of  the  raging  sea : 
With  that  controlling  pow'r  assist  ev'n  me. 

Those  headlong  furious  passions  to  confine. 
For  all  unfit  I  feel  my  pow'rs  to  be, 

To  rule  their  torrent  in  th'  allowed  line ; 
O,  aid  me  with  Thy  help.  Omnipotence  Divine! 


[This  composition  is  set  down  in  the  poet's  Common-place  Book 
immediately  following  the  preceding,  and  entitled  "Misgivings  in 
the  Hour  of  Despondency  and  Prospect  of  Death."  He  copied  it 
from  thence  into  tlie  Stair  manuscript  of  early  pieces  (now  dis- 
membered and  scattered  abroad).  It  is  there  headed — "  Misgivings 
of  Despondency  on  the  Approach  of  the  Gloomy  Monarch  of  the 
Grave."  It  was  also  inserted  in  the  manuscript  book  of  like 
pieces  presented  to  Mrs.  Dunlop,  under  the  heading — "Stanzas  on 
the  same  occasion  (as  the  preceding)  in  the  manner  of  Beattie's 
Minstrel."  That  collection  is  also  cut  up  and  scattered;  and  these 
verses,  apparently  once  forming  part  of  it  are  exhibited  within  the 
Bums  monument  at  E-<linburgh.  On  comparing  the  copy  in  the 
text  with  the  earlier  ones,  we  find  that  the  versification  underwent 
some  polishing  in  1787,  to  fit  it  for  appearance  in  the  author's 
Edinburgh    edition. 

This   piece  acquires  a  certain  interest  from   the  manner  in  which 
Dr.  John  Brown  (author  of  "Rab  and  his  Friends")  has  introduced 
an   anecdote   concerning    it    in    his   little   book — "Pet   Marjorie :    a 
Story  of  Child  Life  Fifty  Years  Ago"  (1863).] 
I.  C 


34  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1781. 

FICKLE   FORTUNE:  "A   FRAGMENT." 

(Cromek,  1S08.) 

Though  fickle  Fortune  has  deceived  me, 
She  promis'd  fair  and  perform' d  but  ill; 

Of  mistress,  friends,  and  wealth  bereav'd  me, 
Yet  I  bear  a  heart  shall  support  me  still. — 

I'll  act  with  prudence  as  far  as  I'm  able, 

But  if  success  I  must  never  find. 
Then  come  misfortune,  I  bid  thee  welcome, 

I'll  meet  thee  with  an  undaunted  mind. 

[The  poet  has  set  this  dowu  in  his  Common-place  Book,  under 
date,  September,  1785,  and  thus  remarks: — "The  above  was  an 
extempore,  under  the  pressure  of  a  heavy  train  of  misfortunes, 
which  indeed  threatened  to  undo  me  altogether.  It  was  just  at 
the  close  of  that  dreadful  period  mentioned  (when  the  prayer 
'O  Thou  great  Being'  was  composed — ^see  p.  28),  and  though  the 
weather  has  brightened  up  a  little  with  me,  yet  there  has  always 
been  since,  a  '  tempest  brewing  round  me  in  the  grim  sky '  of 
futurity,  which  I  pretty  plainly  see  will  some  time  or  other — 
perhaps  ere  long — overwhelm  me,  and  drive  me  into  some  doleful 
dell   to   pine   in    solitary',  squalid   wretchedness." 

The  reader  has  already  seen,  at  page  7,  the  four  lines  which 
form  the  first  half  of  the  above  fragment.  The  poet  here  repro- 
duces them  with  an  important  variation  in  line  third,  which  he 
appropriately  alters  from 

"Of  many  a  joy  and  hope  bereav'd  me." 

These  eight  lines  altogether  read  more  like  rough  prose  than 
measured  verse ;  they  have  at  the  same  time  a  certain  earnest 
vigour,  and  in  sentiment  are  in  unison  with  all  he  wrote  at  that 
period.  He  says  the  fragment  was  constructed  "  in  imitation  of 
an  old  Scotch  song  well  known  among  the  country  ingle-sides," 
and  of  that  he  quotes  one  verse  thus : — 

"When  clouds  in  skies  do  come  together, 

To  hide  the  brightness  of  the  sun, 
There  will  surely  be  some  pleasant  weather 

When  a'  thir  storms  are  spent  and  gone.  these 


^T.  24.]        ^  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  35 

He  tells  us  that  he  has  noted  that  verse  "both  to  mark  the  song 
and  tune  I  mean,  and  likewise  as  a  debt  I  owe  to  the  author, 
as  the  repeating  of  that  verse  has  lighted  up  my  flame  a  thousand 
times."] 


RAGING  FORTUNE  :  FRAGMENT  OF  SONG. 

(Cromek,  1808.) 

O  RAGING  Fortune's  withering  blast 

Has  laid  my  leaf  full  low ! 
O  raging  Fortune's  withsring  blast 

Has  laid  my  leaf  full  low ! 

My  stem  was  fair,  my  bud  was  green, 

My  blossom  sweet  did  blow ; 
The  dew  fell  fresh,  the  sun  rose  mild, 

And  made  my  branches  grow  ; 

But  luckless  Fortune's  northern  storms 

I^aid  a'  my  blossoms  low, —  *a. 

But  luckless  Fortune's  northern  storms 
lyaid  a'  my  blossoms  low ! 

[This  sketch  was  produced  at  the  same  time  with  the  pre- 
ceding. Our  poet  records  in  his  Common-place  Book  that  he 
then  "  set  about  composing  an  air  in  the  old  Scotch  style.  I 
am  (he  adds)  not  musical  scholar  enough  to  prick  down  my 
tune  properly,  so  it  can  never  see  the  light,  .  .  .  but  these 
were  the  verses  I  composed  to  suit  it."  As  we  do  with  the 
verses  at  page  38,  we  omit  the  capital  letter  "O"  at  the  end  of 
every  second  line,  to  avoid  the  unpleasant  effect  in  reading.] 


IMPROMPTU— "I'LL  GO  AND   BE  A   SODGER." 

(CURRIE,    1800.) 

O  WHY  the  deuce  should  I  repine, 

And  be  an  ill  foreboder? 
I'm  twenty-three,  and  five  feet  nine, 

I'll  go  and  be  a  sodger!  aoidiei 


36  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  [1782. 

I  gat  some  gear  wi'   mickle  care,  cash     much 

I  held  it  weel  thegither ; 
But  now  ifsgane^  and  something  mair —  gone     more 

I'll  go  and  be  a   sodger  ! 

[This  is  the  sequel  to  the  poet's  previous  penitential  bemoan- 
ings,  and  apostrophes  to  "Fickle  Fortune."  "Come,  stubborn 
pride  and  unshrinking  resolution  !  " — he  wrote  to  a  lady  friend, 
on  receipt  of  what  he  deemed  ruinous  intelligence — "accompany 
me  through  this,  to  me,  miserable  world  !  Your  friendship  I 
think  I  can  count  on  though  I  should  date  my  letters  from  a 
marching  regiment.  Early  in  life,  and  all  my  life,  I  reckoned 
on  a  recruiting  drum  as  my  forlorn  hope." 

The  poet  was  now  at  home  from  Irvine.  He  reached  Trochlea 
about  the  end  of  March ;  and  Chambers  mentions,  in  1S56,  that 
the  stone  chimney-piece  of  the  little  garret  room  where  Burns 
slept  in  his  father's  house  still  bore  the  initials  "  R.  B.,"  with 
the  date  1782,  supposed  to  have  been  cut  by  the  poet's  own 
hand.      That  relic  no  longer  exists.] 

(In  Burns'  day,  and  long  after,  seven  years  was  the  time  requireil 
to  serve  as  an  appreiiiice  to  any  trade.  Burns,  being  now  luei  t>- 
foLir  }-ears  of  age,  was  voo  old  to  k^arn  a  trade  ;  tlierefore  he,  li^r 
many  young  men  in  a  similar  posiiiuu,  looKed  to  enlisting  in  iLe 
army  as  a  last  resource.  The  Scotch  have  always  been  a  warlike  pe.j 
Tile.  The  natural  resource  of  every  young  Scotchman  in  difficulty  \,a;i 
to  enlist.  G.   G. 


SONG— "NO   CHURCHMAN   AM   I." 

Tune — "  Prepare,  my  dear  Brethren." 
(Edinburgh  Ed.,  1787.) 

No  churchman  am  I  for  to  rail  and  to  write, 
No  statesman  nor  soldier  to  plot  or  to  fight, 
No  sly  man  of  business  contriving  a  snare, 
For  a  big-belly' d  bottle's  the  whole  of  my  care„ 

The  peer  I  don' t  envy,   I  give  him  his  bow ; 

I  scorn  not  the  peasant,   tho'  ever  so  low ; 

But  a  club  of  good  fellows,  like  those  that  are  here, 

And  a  bottle  like  this,  are  my  glory  and  care. 


^r.  24.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  37 

Here  passes  the  squire  on  liis  brother — his  horse ; 
There  centum  per  centum,   the  cit  with  his  purse ; 
But  see  you  the   Croion  *  how  it  waves  in  the  air  ? 
There  a  big-belly'd  bottle  still  eases  my  care. 

The  wife  of  my  bosom,  alas  !  she  did  die  ; 
For  sweet  consolation  to  church  I  did  fly ; 
I  found  that  old  Solomon  proved  it  fair, 
That  a  big-belly'd  bottle's  a  cure  for  all  care. 

I  once  was  persuaded  a  venture  to  make ; 
A  letter  inform' d  me  that  all  was  to  wreck  ; 
But  the  pursy  old  landlord  just  waddl'd  up  stairs, 
With  a  glorious  bottle  that  ended  my  cares. 

"Life's    cares    they    are    comforts "f — a   maxim    laid 

down 
By  the  Bard,  what  d'ye  call  him?  that  wore  the  black 

gown  ; 
And  faith  I  agree  with  th'  old  prig  to  a  hair ; 
For  a  big-belly'd  bottle's  a  heav'n  of  a  care. 

A    STANZA    ADDED    IN    A    MASON    LODGE. 

Then  fill  up  a  bumper  and  make  it  o'erflow, 
And  honors  Masonic  prepare  for  to  throw ; 
May  ev'ry  true  Brother  of  the  Compass  and  Square 
Have  a  big-belly'd  bottle  when  harass' d  with  care. 

[We  are  inclined  to  set  this  down  as  a  production  of  17S2. 
The  Bachelors'  Club  was  instituted  at  the  close  of  1780,  and  the 
poet  was  admitted  an  apprentice  Free  Mason  in  Jul3^  1781,  just 
before  he  proceeded  to  Irvine.  He  was  passed  and  raised  on 
1st  October  following,  on  which  occasion,  if  he  was  present  at 
Tarbolton,    he   must   have   travelled   from    Irvine   for  the   purjwse. 

The  song  in   the  text  has   none   of   the   elements  of  popularity 


•Burns  here  refers  to  the  sis"  of  "The  Crown   Tavern."— J.  H. 
t  Young's  "  Night  Thoughts."— >?.  A 


427831 


38  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [1782. 

in  it,  and  seems  more  like  an  imitation  of  an  English  song  than 
a  spontaneous  outburst  of  his  own  genius.  Indeed,  in  the  collec- 
tion of  songs  which  he  studied  so  much  during  his  boyhood 
there  is  one  that  appears  to  have  been  his  model :  the  closing 
line  of  one   of  its  stanzas   being 

"And  a  big-belly'd  bottle's  a  mighty  good  thing."] 


BALIvAD— MY   FATHER  WAS  A  FARMER. 

Tune — "The  weaver  and  his  shuttle,  O." 
(Cromek,  1808.) 

My  father  was  a  fanner  upon  tlie  Carrick*  border, 

And  carefully  lie  bred  me  in  decency  and  order; 

He  bade  me  act  a  manly  part,   though, I  had  ne'er  a 

farthing; 
For  without  an  honest  manly  heart,  no  man  was  worth 

regarding. 

Then  out  into  the  world  my  course  I  did  determine; 

Tho'  to  be  rich  was  not  my  wish,  yet  to  be  great  was 
charming: 

My  talents  they  were  not  the  worst,  nor  yet  my  edu- 
cation : 

Resolv'd  was  I,  at  least  to  try,  to  mend  my  situation. 

In  many  a  way,   and  vain  essay,   I  courted  Fortune's 

favor ; 
Some  cause  unseen  still  stept  between,  to  frustrate  each 

endeavor ; 
Sometimes   by    foes    I  was   o'erpower'd,  sometimes   by 

friends  forsaken; 
And  when  my  hope  was  at  the  top,   I  still  was  worst 

mistaken. 


*  Carrick  is  the  southemmost  of  the  three  districts  into  which  Ayrshire  is  di- 
vided, and  lies  between  the  Doon  and  the  borders  of  Galloway.  Bums'  father  did 
not  live  in  Carrick,  but  in  Kyle,  close  on  the  Carrick  border.— J.  H. 


jet.  24.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  39 

» 

Then  sore   harass' d,  and  tir'd    at   last,  with  Fortune's 

vain  delusion, 
I    dropt  my    schemes,  like    idle    dreams,  and  came  to 

this  conclusion : 
The  past  was  bad,  and  the  future  hid,  its  good  or  ill 

untried ; 
But  the  present  hour  was  in  my  pow'r,  and  so  I  would 

enjoy  it 

No  help,    nor  hope,    nor  view   had   I,    nor  person   to 

befriend  me  ; 
So   I   must  toil,  and   sweat,   and   moil,   and   labour  to 

sustain  me  ; 
To  plough  and  sow,  to  reap  and  mow,  my  father  bred 

me  early; 
For  one,    he   said,    to   labour  bred,   was   a    match   for 

Fortune  fairly. 

Thus   all  obscure,  unknown,    and   poor,  thro'  life   I'm 

doom'd  to  wander. 
Till  down   my  weary  bones  I  lay  in  everlasting  slum- 
ber ; 
No  view  nor  care,  but  shun  whate'er  might  breed  me 

pain  or  sorrow  ; 
I  live  to-day  as  well's  I  may,  regardless  of  to-morrow. 

But   cheerful   still,  I  am   as  well   as  a  monarch   in  his 

palace, 
Tho'  Fortune's   frown   still  hunts   me   down,    with   all 

her  wonted  malice  : 
I  make  indeed  my  daily  bread,  but  ne'er  can  make  it 

farther  : 
But  as  daily  bread  is  all  I  need,  I  do  not  much  regard 

her. 

When  sometimes  by  my  labour,  I  earn  a  little  money, 
Some  unforeseen  misfortune  comes  gen' rally  upon  me; 


40  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [1782. 

Mischance,  mistake,  or  by  neglect,  or  my  goodnatur'd 

folly: 
But   come  what  will,  I've  sworn  it  still,   I'll  ne'er  be 

melancholy. 

xA.ll  you  who  follow  wealth  and  power  with  unremitting 

ardour, 
The  more   in   this   you  look  for  bliss,  you   leave   your 

view  the  farther  : 
Had  you  the  wealth  Potosi  boasts,  or  nations  to  adore 

you, 
A   cheerful,  honest-hearted  clown   I  will   prefer  before 

you. 

[The  poet  describes  the  above  as  "a  wild  rhapsody,  miserably 
deficient  in  versification,  but  as  the  sentiments  are  the  genuine 
feelings  of  my  heart,  for  that  reason  I  have  a  particular  pleasure 
in   conning  it  over." 

At  the  close  of  each  line  of  the  ballad,  the  letter  "O"  is 
introduced  in  the  Author's  MS.  to  make  it  fit  the  tune  to  which 
he  composed  it.  It  has  a  disturbing  effect  in  reading,  and  there- 
fore we  withdraw  it  from  our  text  for  the  present.  In  an  after- 
part  of  the  work  the  verses  will  be  given  verbatim,  as  part  of 
the  Common -place  Book.] 


JOHN  BARI.EYCORN:  A  BALLAD.* 

(Edinburgh  Ed.,  1787.) 

There  went  three  kings  into  the  east, 

Three  kings  both  great  and  high, 
And  they  hae  sworn  a  solemn  oath  have 

John  Barleycorn  should  die. 


*  This  is  partly  composed  on  the  plan  of  an   old  song  known  by  the  same 
Bame.— /?.   B. 


^JT.  24.]         ^  FORMS   AND   vSONGS.  4i 

Tfiey  took  a  plough  and  plough' d  him  down, 

Put  clods  upon  his  head, 
And  they  have  sworn  a  solemn  oath 

John  Barleycorn  was  dead. 

But  the  cheerful  Spring  came  kindly  on, 

And  show'rs  began  to  fall  ; 
John  Barleycorn  got  up  again. 

And  sore  surprised  them  all. 

The  sultry  suns  of  Summer  came, 

And  he  grew  thick  and  strong ; 
His  head  weel  arm'd  wi'  pointed  spears. 

That  no  one  should  him  wrong. 

The  sober  Autumn  enter' d  mild, 

When  he  grew  wan  and  pale  ; 
His  bending  joints  and  drooping  head 

Show'd  he  began  to  fail. 

His  colour  sicken' d  more  and  more, 

He  faded  into  age  ; 
And  then  his  enemies  began 

To  show  their  deadly  rage. 

They've  taen  a  weapon,  long  and  sharp,  taken 

And  cut  him  by  the  knee  ; 
Then  ty'd  him  fast  upon  a  cart, 

Like  a  rogue  for  forgerie. 

They  laid  him  down  upon  his  back. 

And  cudgell'd  him  full  sore; 
They  hung  him  up  before  the  storm, 

And  turn'd  him  o'er  and  o'er. 

They  filled  up  a  darksome  pit 

With  water  to  the  brim, 
They  heaved  in  John  Barleycorn — 

There,  let  him  sink  or  swim. 


42  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [1782 

They  laid  him  out  upon  the  floor, 

To  work  him  farther  woe; 
And  still,  as  signs  of  life  appeared, 

They  toss'd  him  to  and  fro. 

They  wasted,  o'er  a  scorching  flame, 

The  marrow  of  his  bones  ; 
But  a  miller  us'd  him  worst  of  all, 

For  he  crush' d  him  'tween  two  stones. 


And  they  hae  tacn  his  very  heart's  blood,         uke« 

And  drank  it  round  and  round; 
And  still  the  more  and  more  they  drank, 

Their  joy  did  more  abound.  ^ 

John  Barleycorn  was  a  hero  bold. 

Of  noble  enterprise  ; 
For  if  you  do  but  taste  his  blood, 

'Twill  make  your  courage  rise. 

'Twill  make  a  man  forget  his  woe  ; 

'Twill  heighten  all  his  joy  : 
'Twill  make  the  widow's  heart  to  sing, 

'Tho'   the  tear  were  in  her  eye. 

Then  let  us  toast  John  Barleycorn, 

Each  man  a  glass  in  hand; 
And  may  his  great  posterity 

Ne'er  fail  in  old  Scotland  ! 


[In  the  Common-place  Book  this  is  set  down  immediately  be- 
fore Poor  Mailie,  and  all  that  we  know  concerning  the  date  of 
the  two  poems  is  that  they  were  written  at  Lochlea,  prior  to 
the  year  1784.  Gilbert  has  said,  regarding  the  date  of  the  latter, 
that  his  two  younger  brothers,  William  and  John,  then  acted  as 
drivers    in    the    ploughing    operations    of   the    poet    and    himself. 


jcr.  24.]  i  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  43 

John,  in  1782,  would  be  thirteen  years  old — a  very  likely  age  for 
him  to  commence  duties  of  that  kind ;  so  by  this  mode  of  calcula- 
tion we  would  arrive  at  a  fair  conclusion,  were  we  to  hold  that  John 
Barleycorn  and  Poor  Mailte  were  composed  shortly  after  Burns' 
return  from  Irvine  in  the  early  spring  of  1782.  It  is  not  likely 
that  the  poet  ever  saw  the  ancient  ballad  of  "John  Barleycorn" 
in  any  collection.  A  copy  in  the  Pepys'  library,  at  Cambridge, 
furnished  the  old  version  included  by  Robert  Jamiesou  in  his  col- 
lection of  Ballads,  2  vols.,  1808.  In  the  poet's  note  to  the  Ballad 
he  says  : — "  I  once  heard  the  old  song  that  goes  by  this  name 
sung,  and  being  very  fond  of  it,  and  remembering  only  two  or 
three  Terses  of  it,  viz.,  the  ist,  2d  and  3d,  vnth  some  scraps,  I 
have  interwoven  them  here  and  there  in  the  following  piece." 
The  poet  could  never  be  induced  to  correct  the  defective  gram- 
mar in  the  opening  line,  deeming,  we  suppose,  with  Shakespeare, 
that  bad  grammar  is  sometimes  a  positive  beauty.  James  Hogg 
had  the  same  feeling  in  regard  to  his  favourite  song  "When  the 
kye  comes  hame."  In  another  of  Burns'  most  admired  Ballads, 
— "There  was  five  Carlines  in  the  south" — evidently  composed  on 
the  model  of  John  Barleycorn — he  retains  the  "bad  grammar," 
and  directs  the  song  to  be  sung  to  the  tune  of  Chevy  Chase.  We 
cannot  tell  whether  that  air  was  the  same  above  referred  to,  which 
he    "once  heard  sung."] 


THE  DEATH  AND  DYING  WORDS  OF  POOR 
MAILIE. 

THE  AUTHOR'S  ONI,Y  P;e;T   YOWE—h.1^  UNCO   MOURNFU'    TALB;.        ewe 

extremely 
(Kilmarnock  Ed.,  1786.) 

As  Mailie,  an'  her  lambs  thegitlier, 

Was  ae  day  nibblin  on  the  tether^  haiter 

Upon  her  cloot  she  coost  a  hitch,  hoof  cast 

An'  owre  she  warsTd  in  the  ditch:  tumbled  struggling 

There,  groanin,  dying,  she  did  lie, 

When  Hughoc*  he  cam  doytin  by.  walking  stupidly 

Wi'  glowritt  een,  and  lifted  han's  staring  eyes 

Poor  Hughoc  like  a  statue  stan's ; 

•  A  neibour  herd-callant,  about  three-fourths  as  wise  as  other  folk. — R.  B. 


44 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


[1782. 


He  saw  her  days  were  near-hand  ended, 
But,   zvae'  s  my  heart !  he  could  na  mend  it !  woe  is  me 
He  gaped  wide,  but  naething  spak^  spoke 

At  length  poor  Mailie  silence  brak,  broke 


whose 


much  cash 
more 


drive 


"O  thou,  whase  lamentable  face 
Appears  to  mourn  my  wofu'  case ! 
My  dying  words  attentive  hear. 
An'  bear  them  to  my  Master  dear. 

"Tell  him,  if  e'er  again  he  keep 
As  muckle  gear  as  buy  a  sheep — 
O,  bid  him  never  tie  them  niair^ 
Wi'  wicked  strings  o'  hemp  or  hair ! 
But  CO'  them  out  to  park  or  hill. 
An'  let  them  wander  at  their  will :      '^ 
So  may  his  flock  increase,  an'  grow 
To  scores  o'  lambs,  and  packs  o'   woo'  ! 

' '  Tell  him,  he  was  a  Master  kitt' 
An'  ay  was  guid  to  me  an'  mine ; 
An'  now  my  dying  charge  I  gie  him. 
My  helpless  lambs,  I  trust  them  wi'  him. 

' '  O,  bid  him  save  their  harmless  lives, 
Frae  dogs,  an'  tods^  an'  butcher's  knives! 
But  gie  them  giiid  cow-milk  their  fill, 
Till  they  be  fit  to  fend  themsel ; 
An'  tent  them  duly,  e'en  an'  mom, 

Wi'   taetS   O'   hay  an'   rippS    O'    com,      small  quantities    handfuls 


kind 


give 


foxes 

good 

pro\'ide  for 

attend  to 


"An'  may  they  never  learn  the  gaets^ 
Of  ither  vile,   wanrestfiC  pets — 
To  slink  thro'  slaps^  an'  reave  an'  steal, 
At  stacks  o'  pease,  or  stocks  o'   kail! 
So  may  they,   like  their  great  forbears^ 
For  mojiie  a  year  come  thro'  the  sheers  : 
So  wives  will  gie  them  bits  o'  bread, 
An'  bairns  greet  for  them  when  they're  dead 


ways 

unrestful 

gaps        rob 

colewort 

ancestors 

many 

weep 


-DT.    25.] 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


"My  poor  toop-Iamb^  my  son  an'  heir, 
O,  bid  him  breed  him  up  wi'  care ! 
An'  if  he  live  to  be  a  beast, 
To  put  some  havins  in  his  breast ! 


45 

tup-lamb 


"An'  warn  him — what  I  winna  name 
To  stay  content  wi'  yowes  at  hame  ; 
An'  no  to  rin  an'  wear  his  cloots^  i 

Like  ithcr  mcnseless^  graceless  brutes,     other  unmannerly 


hoofs 


' '  An'   nicst^  my  yowie^  silly  thing,  next     little  ewe 

Gude  keep  thee  frae  a  tether  string  !  from 

O,  may  thou  ne'  er  forgather  tip^  hold  intercourse 

Wi'  ony  blastit^  moorland  toop  ;  worthless 

But  ay  keep  mind  to  'inoop  an''  melly  associate 
Wi'  sheep  o'  credit  like  thysel  ! 

"And  now,   my  bairns^  wi'  my  last  breath,  children 

X  lea^ e  my  blessin  wi'  you  baith  :  leave     both 
An'  when  you  think  upo'  your  niither, 

Mind  to  be  kind  to  ane  anither.  one  another 


"Now,  honest  Hughoc,  dimia  fail, 
To  tell  my  master  a'  my  tale  ; 
An'  bid  him  burn  this  cursed  tether, 
An'  for  thy  pains  thou'se  get  my  blather y 

This  said,  poor  Mailie  tuni'd  her  head, 
An'  clos'  d  her  een  amang  the  dead ! 


do  not 


bladder 


[Carlyle  considers  this  the  poet's  happiest  eflFort  of  its  peculiar 
kind  :  he  classes  it  with  the  Address  to  a  Mouse,  and  the  Atihi 
Farmer'' s  Marc,  but  holds  that  "this  has  even  more  of  sportive 
tenderness  in  it."  It  was  composed — just  as  we  now  see  it — one 
afternoon  while  engaged  with  his  plough  on  the  slopes  of  Lochlea, 
his  brother  Gilbert  being  at  work  with  his  team  on  another  part 
of  the   field.     The   poet's   youngest   brother,  John — of  whose   early 


46  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1783. 

death,  by  the  way,  not  a  syllable  has  been  ever  heard — drove  the 
horses,  while  the  musing  bard  guided  his  plough  in  the  even  rig. 
Gilbert  narrates  the  incident  to  this  effect : — As  they  were  setting 
out  about  noon,  with  their  teams,  a  curious-looking,  awkward  boy, 
named  Hugh  Wilson,  ran  up  to  them  in  a  very  excited  manner, 
and  with  a  rueful  countenance,  announced  that  poor  Mailie  had 
got  entangled  in  her  tether  and  was  lying  in  the  ditch.  It  had 
never  occurred  to  the  terror-stricken  "Hughoc  "  that  he  might  have 
lent  a  hand  in  lifting  her  up :  Mailie,  however,  was  soon  rescued 
from  her  peril  and  lived — it  is  hoped — to  see  her  bairns'  bairns. 
This  timely  intervention  of  the  half-witted  callant  was  the  means 
of  sending  down  the  name  of  poor  Mailie  along  with  his  own 
to  distant  posterity,  for  his  comical  consternation  and  pathetic 
interest  in  her  fate  suggested  the  poem  to  Bums.] 


POOR  MAILIE'S  ELEGY. 

(KlI,MARNOCK   Ed.,    1786.) 

Lament  in  rhyme,  lament  in  prose, 

Wi'  smit  tears  tricklin  down  your  nose  ;  salt 

Our  bardie's  fate  is  at  a  close. 

Past  a'  rente  ad !  remedy 

The  last,  sad  cape-stane  o'  his  woes  cope-stone 

Poor  Mailie' s  dead  ! 

It's  no  the  loss  o'   zvarP s  gear^         worldly  wealth 
That  could  sae  bitter  draw  the  tear, 
Or  mak  our  bardie,  dowie^  wear  melancholy 

The  moumin'  weed: 
He's  lost  a  friend  an'  7ieebor  dear,  neighbof 

In  Mailie  dead. 

Thro'  a'  the  town  she  trotted  by  him  ; 
A  lang  half-mile  she  could  descry  him  ; 
Wi'  kindly  bleat,  when  she  did  spy  him, 

She  ran  wi'  speed : 
A  friend  mair  faithfu'  ne'er  cam  nigh  him, 

Than  Mailie  dead. 


SET.  25.]        '•         poe;ms  and  songs.  47 

I  wat  she  was  a  slieep  o'  sense,  wot 

An'  could  behave  hersel  wi'   mcnse:      good  manners 
I'll  say't,  she  never  brak  a  fence, 

Thro'   thievish  greed. 
Our  bardie,  lanely,   keeps  the  spence*      inner  room 

Sin'  Mailie's  dead. 

Or,  if  he  wanders  up  the  howe^  vaUey 

Her  livin  image  in  her  yowe 
Comes  bleatin  till  him,  owre  the  hiowe^        knoii 

For  bits  o'  bread ; 
An'  down  the  briny  pearls  rowe  roii 

For  Mailie  dead. 

She  was  nae  get  o'  moorlan  tips,  offspring 

Wi'  tallied  ket^  an'  hairy  hips  ;  matted  fleece 

For  \\.tr  forbears  were  brought  in  ships,     ancestors 

Frae  'yont  the  Tweed  : 
A  bonier  fieesh  ne'er  cross' d  the  clips    fleece     shears 

Than  Mailie's— dead. 

Woe) 

Wae  worth  that  man  wha  first  did  shape  be  to) 
That  vile,  wanchancie  thing — a  raep  !  unlucky  rope 
It  maks  guid  fellows  gini  an'  gape,  gnn 

Wi'  chokin  dread  ; 
An'  Robin's  bonnet  wave  wi'  crape 

For  Mailie  dead. 

O,  a'  ye  bards  on  bonie  Doon! 
An'  wha  on  Ayr  your  chanters  tune!  bag-pipea 

Come,  join  the  melancholious  croon  chant 

O'  Robin's  reed! 
His  heart  will  never  get  aboon — 

His  Mailie's  dead! 


•The  "  spence  "  (retiring-room  or  parlor)  of  a  farm  house,  from  being  originally 
generally  behind  the  kitchen  or  "but,"  was  known  also  as  the  "ben."  Hence, 
even  when  not  behind  the  kitchen,  but  in  the  other  end  of  the  house,  It  re- 
tained its  name  of  "ben." — }.  H. 


48  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1783. 

[That  this  poem  was  composed  at  a  period  somewhat  later  than 
the  "Dying  Words,"  is  probable  from  the  fact  that  the  "Elegy" 
is  uot  inscribed  in  the  poet's  Common-place  Book,  while  the 
main  poem  is  recorded  there,  almost  verbatim  as  afterwards  pub- 
lished. Dr.  Currie  informs  us  (Vol.  III.,  p.  395,  Ed.  1801)  that 
in  preparing  the  "Elegy"  for  the  press,  the  poet  substituted  the 
present  sixth  verse  for  the  following  : — 

"  She  was  nae  get  o'  coarse,  gaunt  rams, 
Wi'  woo  like  goats,  and  legs  like  trams:  wool         shafts 

She  was  the  flower  o'  Fairlie  lambs — 

A  famous  breed ; 
Now  Robin,  greetin,  chews  the  hams,  weeping 

O'  Mailie  dead." 

The  substituted  stanza  is  doubtless  a  great  improvement ;  yet 
we  cannot  but  regret  with  Currie  that  "Fairlie  lambs"  should  lose 
the  honor  once  intended  for  them.  Fairlie  was  the  first  place 
in  Ayrshire  where  the  poet's  father,  in  early  manhood,  obtained 
employment.]  ^ 


SONG— THE  RIGS  O'  BARLEY. 

(Kilmarnock  Ed.,  1786.) 

It  was  upon  a  Lammas  night, 

When  corn  rigs  are  bonie,  ndges 

Beneath  the  moon's  unclouded  light, 

I  held  awa  to  Annie  ; 
The  time  flew  by,   wi^  tentless  heed  ;     with  careless 

Till,   'tween  the  late  and  early, 
Wi'  sma'  persuasion  she  agreed 
To  see  me  thro'   the  barley. 
Com  rigs  an'  barley  rigs. 

An'  com  rigs  are  bonie : 
I'll  ne'er  forget  that  happy  night, 
Amang  the  rigs  wi'  Annie. 

The  sky  was  blue,  the  wind  was  still. 

The  moon  was  shining  clearly  ; 
I  set  her  down,  wi'  right  good  will, 

Amang  the  rigs  o'  barley  : 


PrhlL^f/f^Z'^^'r.'^-s. 


'Ii.d    <-> 


)(1J  iinv^mh 


■  lUvcr  uiati 
je  "Elegy" 
.  while  tlie 
rwards  pub- 
oi)  that 
*€■<!    the 


weeping- 


nprovement ;    yet 

should  lose 

j  first  place 

Inhood,  obtained 


ridg-es 


h  careless 


THE  RIGS  O'  BARLEY— 

"  I  set  her  down,  wi'  right  good  will, 
Amang  the  rigs  o'  barley." 


sir.  25.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  49 

» 

I  keit't  her  heart  was  a'  my  ain  ;  knew 

I  lov'd  her  most  sincerely  ; 
I  kiss'd  her  owre  and  owre  again,  over 

Amang  the  rigs  o'  barley. 

Corn  rigs,  an'  barley  rigs,   &c. 

I  lock'd  her  in  my  fond  embrace  ; 

Her  heart  was  beating  rarely  : 
My  blessings  on  that  happy  place, 

Amang  the  rigs  o'  barley  ! 
Bnt  by  the  moon  and  stars  so  bright, 

That  shone  that  hour  so  clearly ! 
She  ay  shall  bless  that  happy  night 

Amang  the  rigs  o'  barley. 

Com  rigs,  an'  barley  rigs,   &c. 

I  hae  been  blythe  wi'  comrades  dear  ;  giad 

I  hae  been  merry  drinking  ; 
I  hae  been  joyfu'  gath'rin  gear ;  money 

I  hae  been  happy  thinking  : 
But  a'  the  pleasures  e'er  I  saw, 

Tho'  three  times  doubl'd  fairly — 
That  happy  night  was  worth  them  a', 

Amang  the  rigs  o'  barley. 

Corn  rigs,  an'  barley  rigs,   &c. 

[We  conceive  that  we  cannot  be  far  wrong  in  setting  down 
this  and  the  four  songs  which  immediately  follow  as  compositions 
of  the  period  from  the  summer  of  1782  to  the  close  of  1783,  when 
tlie  Burness  family  was  preparing  to  remove  to  Mossgiel,  and  old 
William  Burness,  was  about  to  bid  them  all  farewell  for  ever. 
Many  of  the  "  Annies "  of  the  district  have  contended  for  the 
dul)ious  honor  of  being  the  heroine  of  this  warmly-colored,  yet 
highly  popular,  lyric.  The  name  of  Anne  Ronald  has  been  men- 
tioned ;  but,  as  we  have  already  seen,  the  poet  was  content  to  ad- 
mire her  at  a  respectful  distance.  Anne  Rankine,  daughter  of  a 
farmer  at  Adamhill,  within  two  miles  west  of  Lochlea,  and  who 
afterwards  became  Mrs.  Merry,  not  only  "  owned  the  soft  im- 
peachment," but  to  her  dying  day  boasted  that  she  was  the  Annie 
of  the  "Rigs  o'  Barley."  If  so,  then  Gilbert  was  right  when  he 
L  D 


50 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


[1783. 


told  Dr.  Currie  that  "  there  was  often  a  great  disparity  between 
the  fair  captivator  and  her  attributes  "  as  depicted  in  song  by  her 
lover. 

Our  poet  is  said  to  have,  on  more  than  one  occasion  in  after- 
life, referred  to  the  closing  verse  of  this  song  as  one  of  hia 
happiest  strokes  of  workmanship.] 


SONG— ''COMPOSED  IN  AUGUST." 

(Kilmarnock  Ed.,  1786.) 

Now  westlin  winds  and  slaught'ring  guns 

Bring  Autumn's  pleasant  weather  ; 
The  moorcock  springs  on  whirring  wings, 

Amang  the  blooming  heather: 
Now  waving  grain,  wide  o'er  the  plain, 

Delights  the  weary  fanner ; 
And  the  moon  shines  bright,  when  I  rove  at  night, 

To  muse  upon  my  charmer. 


The  partridge  loves  the  fruitful  fells^ 

The  plover  loves  the  mountains  ; 
The  woodcock  haunts  the  lonely  dells, 

The  soaring  hern  the  fountains  : 
Thro'  lofty  groves  the  cushat  roves, 

The  path  of  man  to  shun  it  ; 
The  hazel  bush  o'erhangs  the  thrush, 

The  spreading  thorn  the  linnet. 


uplands 


heron 
wood-pigeo« 


Thus  ev'ry  kind  their  pleasure  find, 

The  savage  and  the  tender ; 
Some  social  join,  and  leagues  combine, 

Some  solitary  wander : 
Avaunt,  away,   the  cruel  sway ! 

Tyrannic  man's  dominion  ; 
The  sportsman's  joy,  the  murd'ring  cry, 

The  flutt'ring,  gory  pinion  ! 


^r.  25.1  *  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  51 

But,   Peggy  dear,  the  ev'ning's  clear. 

Thick  flies  the  skimming  swallow; 
The  sky  is  blue,   the  fields  in  view, 

All  fading-green  and  yellow: 
Come  let  us  stray  our  gladsome  way, 

And  view  the  charms  of  Nature; 
The  rustling  com,  the  fruited  thorn, 

And  ev'ry  happy  creiture. 

We'll  gently  walk,  and  sweetly  talk, 

Till  the  silent  moon  shine  clearly; 
I'll  grasp  thy  waist,  and,  fondly  press' t, 

Swear  how  I  love  thee  dearly: 
Not  vernal  show'rs  to  budding  flow'rs, 

Not  Autumn  to  the  fanner. 
So  dear  can  be  as  thou  to  me. 

My  fair,  my  lovely  channer! 


[This  is  "Song  Second"  (of  the  author's  Edinburgh  edition), 
referred  to  in  his  autobiography  as  "  the  ebullition  of  that  passion 
which  ended  that  school  business "  at  Kirkoswald.  If  the  lyric 
was  suggested  and  partly  sketched  out  when  the  poet  was  but 
in  his  seventeenth  year,  we  are  assured,  on  the  testimony  of  Mrs. 
Begg,  that  at  a  considerably  later  period  he  experienced  another 
love-fit  for  Kirkoswald  Peggy,  and  corresponded  with  her,  with  a 
view  to  matrimony.  It  would  be  then  that  he  dressed  up  this 
finely  descriptive  composition  into  its  existing  form  ;  but  as  he 
soon  thereafter  fell  into  grief  about  the  subject  of  his  epistle  to 
Rankine,  he  was  forced  to  abandon  the  idea  of  matrimony  with 
Peggy. 

We  shall  again  have  occasion  to  advert  to  this  very  early  in- 
spirer  of  the  poet's  passion,  when,  under  date  1786,  we  give  the 
verses  he  inscribed  on  a  presentation  copy  to  her  of  his  first 
edition.  Among  the  bard's  letters  also  will  be  given  one  ad- 
dressed by  him  to  an  early  Carrick  friend,  Mr.  Thomas  Orr, 
Park,  dated  nth  Nov.,  1784,  which  throws  some  light  on  the  pres- 
ent subject.] 


52  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1783. 


SONG— "MY   NANNIE,    O." 

(Edinburgh  Ed.,  1787.) 

Behind  yon  hills  where  Lugar  *  flows, 

'Mang  moors  an'  mosses  many,  O, 
The  wintry  sun  the  day  has  clos'd, 

And  I'll  awa  to  Nannie,  O. 

The  westlin  wind  blaws  loud  an'  skill;  shnii 

The  night's  baith  mirk  and  rainy,  O  ;  dark 

But  I'll  get  my  plaid  an'  out  I'U  steal, 

An'  owre  the  hill  to  Nannie,   O.  over 

My  Nanie's  charming,  sweet,  an'  young; 

Nae  artfu'  wiles  to  win  ye,   O  : 
May  ill  befa'  the  flattering  tongue 

That  wad  beguile  my  Nannie,   O. 

Her  face  is  fair,  her  heart  is  true  ; 

As  spotless  as  she's  bonie,  O  ; 
The  op'ning  gowan^   wat  wi'  dew,  daisy      wet 

Nae  purer  is  than  Nannie,  O. 

A  country  lad  is  my  degree. 

An'  few  there  be  that  ken  me,   O ;  know 

But  what  care  I  how  few  they  be, 

I'm  welcome  ay  to  Nannie,  O. 


*  "  Stinchar,"  in  all  the  author's  editions,  including  that  of  1794  ;  but  George 
Thomson  says  the  poet  sanctioned  the  change  in  1792.  (Stinchar  has  local  verity 
in  its  favor,  but,  as  Burns  says  to  Thomson,  "  I,ugar  is  the  more  agreeable  mod- 
ulation of  syllables."  Lugar  is  a  stream  in  Kyle,  which,  rising  in  Cumnock  and 
flowing  northwest  by  Ochiltree,  falls  into  the  Ayr  at  Barskimming,  about  a  mile 
south  of  Mauchline.  The  Stinchar  is  a  mere  streamlet  rising  in  Kirkoswald 
parish  aad  flowing  into  the  Firth  of  Clyde,  nearly  opposite  Ailsa  Craig.)— JH. 


.0  ,'mmsM  ai  -^r,  ornojbw  m'l  "-0  .lUV.VlAV.  YM 


know 


MY  NANNIE,  O— "  I'm  welcome  ay  to  Nannie;  W*°f  ^"^ 


^T.  25.]  •  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  53 

My  riches  a's  my  penny-fee,* 

An'  I  maun  guide  it  canrue^  O  ;     must        carefully 
But  warPs  gear  ne'er  troubles  me,  worlds  wealth 

My  thoughts  are   a' — my  Nannie,   O. 

Our  auld  guidman  delights  to  view  om 

His  sheep  an'  kye  thrive  bonie  O  ;  cows 

But  I'm  as  blythe  that  hands  his pleugk^  holds  pio„gh 
An'  has  nae  care  but  Nannie,   O. 

Come  weel,   come  woe,   I  care  na  by ;  care  not 

I'll  tak  what  Heav'n  will  sen'  me,   O  : 

No  other  care  in  life  have  I, 

But  live,  an'  love  my  Nannie,  O. 

[The  author,  in  his  Common-place  Book,  directs  this  song  to 
be  sung  to  the  tune  of  "As  I  came  in  by  London,  O,"  which 
no  doubt  would  be  the  opening  line  of  some  then  popular,  but 
now  unknown  English  song,  set  to  the  old  Scotch  air,  "My 
Nanie,  O." 

A  vast  deal  has  been  written  and  said  concerning  the  heroine- 
ship  of  this  song.  The  Rev.  Hamilton  Paul,  who  belonged  to 
Ayrshire,  and  was  almost  a  contemporary  of  Burns,  thus  wrote  in 
1819 : — "In  Kilmarnock,  Bums  first  saw  'Nanie,'  the  subject  of 
one  of  his  most  popular  ballads.  She  captivated  him  as  well  by 
the  charm  of  her  person  as  by  the  melody  of  her  voice.  As  he 
devoted  much  of  his  spare  time  to  her  society,  and  listened  to 
her  singing  with  the  most  religious  attention,  her  sister  observed 
to  him,  that  he  paid  more  attention  to  Nanie's  singing  than  he 
would  do  to  a  preaching ;  he  retorted  with  an  oath — '  Madam, 
there's  no  comparison.'"  On  the  other  hand,  Gilbert  Burns,  who 
was  aware  that  the  song  was  composed  before  his  brother  ever 
s])ent  an  hour  in  Kilmarnock,  informed  George  Thomson,  Uiat 
"Nanie  was  a  farmer's  daughter  in  Tarbolton  parish,  named  Flem- 
itig,  to  whom  the  poet  paid  some  of  that  roving  attention  which 
he  was  continually  devoting  to  some  one.  Her  charms  were 
indeed  mediocre,  and  what  she  had  were  sexual,  which  indeed 
was  the  characteristic  of  the  greater  part  of  his  mistresses.  He 
was  no  Platonic  lover,  whatever  he  might  pretend  or  suppose  of 
himself" 


*  My  small  wages  are  all  my  wealth.— J.  H. 


64  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [1783. 

Allan  Cunningham  and  other  annotators  have,  through  a  mis- 
conception of  the  opening  lines  of  the  song,  run  away  with  the 
notion  that  Nanie  belonged  to  Carrick,  like  the  subject  of  the 
preceding  lyric.  But  when  we  have  the  poet  himself  confess- 
ing that  Vive  V amour,  et  vive  la  bagatelle  were  his  "sole 
principles  of  action,"  and  that  when  the  labors  of  each  day 
were  over,  he  "spent  the  evening  in  the  way  after  his  own 
heart,"  we  must  conclude  that  his  rural  divinities  were  not 
far  to  seek.  It  is  by  no  means  requisite  that  the  inspirer  of 
this  picture  of  rustic  purity  should  have  been  named  "Nanie." 
Here  the  poet  sets  himself  to  clothe  with  suitable  words  one  of 
our  most  popular  native  melodies,  and  unless  he  had  closed  each 
verse  with  the  familiar  name — "  My  Nanie,  O," — nothing  that  he 
could  have  composed  for  it  could  have  answered  the  purpose  so 
well. 

The  early  copy  in  the  Common-place  Book  does  not  materially 
differ  from  that  afterwards  published  ;  but  at  the  end  of  verse 
first,  and  at  the  close  of  the  song,  he  gives  the  following  chorus : — 


"  And  O  my  bonie  Nanie,  O, 

My  young,  my  handsome  Nanie,  O ; 
Tho'  I  had  the  world  all  at  my  will, 
I  would  give  it  all  for  Nanie,  O.  " 


SONG— GREEN  GROW  THE  RASHES. 

(Edinburgh  Ed.,  1787.) 

Chor. — Green  grow  the  rashes,  O  ; 
Green  grow  the  rashes,  O  ; 
The  sweetest  hours  that  e'er  I  spend, 
Are  spent  among  the  lasses,  O. 

There's  nought  but  care  on  ev'ry  han', 

In  ever}'  hour  that  passes,  O  : 
What  signifies  the  life  o'  man. 

An'  ''twer'e  na  for  the  lasses,   O.  if  it  were  not 

Green  grow,   &c. 


^T.  25.]  •  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  55 

The  warily  race  may  riclies  chase,  worwiy 

An'  riches  still  may  ily  them,  O  ; 

An'  tho'  at  last  they  catch  them  fast, 
Their  hearts  can  ne'er  enjoy  them,  O. 
Green  grow,   &c. 

But  gie  me  a  cannie  hour  at  e'en,  quiet 

My  arms  about  my  dearie,   O ; 
An'  war'ly  cares,  an'  war'ly  men. 

May  a'  gae  tapsalteeric^  O.  topsy-turvy 

Green  grow,  &c. 

For  you  sae  dotice^  ye  sneer  at  this  ;   gravely  prudent 
Ye' re  nought  but  senseless  asses,  O : 

The  wisest  man  the  warP  e'er  saw, 
He  dearly  lov'd   the  lasses,  O. 

Green  grow,  &c. 

Auld  Nature  swears,   the  lovely  dears 
Her  noblest  work  she  classes,   O  : 

Her  prentice  han'  she  try'd  on  man, 
An'  then  she  made  the  lasses,  O. 

Green  grow,  &c. 

[The  author  has  nowhere  given  an  indication  of  the  date  of 
this  widely  popular  song.  He  entered  it  among  other  early  pieces 
in  his  Common-placd  Book  in  August,  1784.  It  may  have  been 
then  just  composed  ;  but  a  Tarbolton  contemporary  spoke  of  it 
to  Chambers,  as  a  Lochlea  production,  in  these  terms  : — "  Burns 
composed  a  song  on  almost  every  tolerable-looking  lass  in  the 
parish,  and  finally  one  in  which  he  embraced  them  all."  It  is 
certain,  however,  that  its  crowning  stanza — the  last  one — was  not 
added  till  a  much  later  date,  perhaps  not  till  he  brushed  up  the 
song  to  appear  in  his  Edinburgh  volume  of  1787.  This  is  proved 
by  the  fact  that  in  his  early  manuscript  copies  that  verse  is  wanting. 

The  poet's  son  Robert,  during  the  period  of  his  retirement  in 
Dumfries,  used,  in  connection  with  this  song,  to  repeat  a  stanza 
added  by  himself,  which  deserves  preservation  as  a  happy  sequel 
to  his  father's   idea  in  the   closing  verse.      It  is  as    follows : — 

Krae  man's  ain  side  the  form  was  made 

That  a'  God's  wark  surpasses,  O  ; 
Man  only  loes  his  ain  heart's  bluid, 

Wha  dearly  loves  the  lasses,  O." 


56  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1783. 

In  all  the  author's  printed  copies,  except  in  the  Museum,  the 
word  spettd,  in  line  third  of  the  chorus,  is  altered  to  spetit  to  the 
detriment  of  the  poet's  grammar.  We  therefore  adhere  to  the 
3Iuseum  copy  in  that  particular,  which  corresponds  with  the  MS. 
of  the  Common-place   Book.] 


SONG— ''INDEED  WIIvL  I,"  QUO'  FINDLAY. 

Tune — "  Lass,  an  I  come  near  thee." 
(Johnson's  Museum,   1792.) 
**  IVha  is  that  at  my  bower-door?"  who 


go  your  \ 


'  O  wha  is  it  but  Findlay  ! ' 
"Then  £-ae  your  gate^  ye  'se  nae  be  here:"°  4aysi 

'Indeed  maun  /,'  quo'   Findlay,  must  i 

"What  make  ye^  sae  like  a  thief?"  do  you 

'  O  come  and  see, '  quo'  Findlay  ; 
"Before  the  morn  ye' 11  work  mischief" — 

'  Indeed  will  I, '  quo'  Findlay. 


Gif  \  rise  and  let  you  in" —  « 

'  Ivct  me  in,'  quo'  Findlay, 

Ye' 11  keep  me  waukinvfi'  your  ^z«" — awake  noise 

'  Indeed  will  I, '  quo'   Findlay, 
"  In  my  bower  if  ye  should  stay  " — 

'  Let  me  stay, '  quo'   Findlay  ; 
"I  fear  ye'll  bide  till  break  o'  day" —  remain 

'  Indeed  will  I, '  quo'   Findlay. 


(( 


"Here  this  night  if  ye  remain" — 

'I'll  remain,'  quo'   Findlay; 
"I  dread  ye'll  learn  the  gate  again" —  way 

'  Indeed  will  I, '  quo'  Findlay. 
"What  may  pass  within  this  bower" — 

*  Let  it  pass, '  quo'  Findlay  ; 

"Ye  maun  conceal  till  your  last  hour" —         must 

*  Indeed  will  I, '  quo'  Findlay. 


JET.  25.]  i  POEMS  AND   vSONGS.  67 

• 

[We  consider  ourselves  justifiable  iu  recording  this  as  a  produc- 
tion of  the  Lochlea  period  of  the  author's  life.  Gilbert  Burns 
assured  Cromek  that  his  brother  composed  it  in  emulation  of  a 
piece  iu  Ramsay's  Tea-table  Miscellany,  called  "The  auld  man's 
best  argument."  An  old  womau  in  Tarbolton,  named  Jean  Wilson, 
used  to  divert  him  and  his  companions  by  singing  it  with  great 
effect ;  and  Gilbert  supposed  the  poet  had  not  then  seen  Ramsay's 
song. 

James  Findlay,  an  Officer  of  Excise  in  Tarbolton,  who  afterwards 
married  one  of  the  "belles  of  Mauchline,"  was  appointed,  in 
March,  17S8,  to  train  Burns  for  the  duties  of  an  exciseman.  It  is 
by  no  means  improbable  that  this  same  Mr.  Findlay,  or  a  relative 
of  his,  was  the  hero  of  the  foregoing  song.] 


REMORSE :    A  FRAGMENT. 

(CuRRiE,  I  Sod.) 

Of  all  the  numerous  ills  that  hurt  our  peace — 

That  press  the  soul,  or  wring  the  mind  with  anguish, 

Beyond  comparison  the  worst  are  those 

By  our  own  folly,  or  our  guilt  brought  on  : 

In  ev'ry  other  circumstance,   the  mind 

Has  this  to  say,    '  It  was  no  deed  of  mine  : ' 

But,  when  to  all  the  evil  of  misfortune 

This  sting  is  added,    'blame  thy  foolish  self!' 

Or  worser  far,   the  pangs  of  keen  remorse, 

The  torturing,   giiawing  consciousness  of  guilt — 

Of  guilt,  perhaps,  where  we've  involved  others, 

The  young,  the  innocent,  who  fondly  lov'd  us  ; 

Nay  more,   that  very  love  their  cause  of  ruin  ! 

O  burning  hell  !  in  all  thy  store  of  torments 

There's  not  a  keener  lash  ! 

lyives  there  a  man  so  finn,  who,  while  his  heart 

Feels  all  the  bitter  horrors  of  his  crime, 

Can  reason  down  its  agonizing  throbs  ; 

And,  after  proper  purpose  of  amendment, 

Can  firmly  force  his  jarring  thoughts  to  peace? 

O  happy,  happy,  enviable  man  ! 

O  glorious  magnanimity  of  soul  I 


58  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1783. 

[These  lines  (reminding  one  of  the  "Fragment  of  a  Tragedy," 
at  p.  10)  are  recorded,  under  date  September,  1783,  in  the  poet's 
first  Common-place  Book.  It  is  most  probable  that  the  poem  is 
set  down  at  its  proper  date,  prompted  by  keen  self-reproaches 
produced  through  the  effects  of  immoral  indulgence.  In  his  ob- 
servations which  introduce  the  piece,  he  seems  to  take  credit  to 
himself  for  bearing  up  against  his  wretchedness  with  manly  firm- 
ness, because  tempered  with  a  penitential  sense  of  his  own  mis- 
conduct. This  spirit  he  terms  "a  glorious  effort  of  self-com- 
mand."] 


EPITAPH  ON  JAMES  GRIEVE,  LAIRD  OF  BOG- 
HEAD,    TARBOLTON.  proprietor 

(Orig.  Common-pIvACU  Book,  1784.) 

Here  lies  Boghead  amang  the  dead, 

In  hopes  to  get  salvation; 
But  if  such  as  he,  in  Heav'n  may  be, 

Then  welcome — hail!  damnation. 


[This  is  the  earliest  sample  of  an  extensive  crop  of  like  facetiae 
which  the  author,  to  the  close  of  his  life,  was  fond  of  producing. 
It  is  not  very  complimentary  to  the  poor  laird  who  provoked  it ; 
yet,  by  adopting  a  very  slight  variation,  the  poet,  in  his  Kilmar- 
nock volume,  converted  this  quatrain  iuto  a  rich  compliment  to 
his  friend,    Gavin  Hamilton,  thus : — 

"  The  poor  man  weeps — here  Gavin  sleeps. 
Whom  canting  wretches  blamed  ; 
But  with  such  as  he,  where'er  he  be, 
May  I  be  saved  or  damned !" 

Boghead  lies  upwards  of  a  mile  due  west  from  Lochlea,  and  near 
Adamhill.  This  epitaph  does  not  accord  very  well  with  a  gossip- 
ing anecdote  given  by  Dr.  Waddell  conveying  the  allegation  of 
frequent  friendly  visits  paid  by  Burus  to  Boghead  during  this  early 
period.] 


^T.  26.]  f  POEMS  AND  vSONGS.  59 


EPITAPH    ON    WM.    HOOD,    SENR.,    IN    TAR- 
BOIvTON. 

(K11.MARNOCK  Ed.,  1786.) 

Here  Sonter  Hood  in  death  does  sleep  ;  shoemaker 

To  hell  if  he's  ganc  thither,  gone 

Satan,  gie  him  thy  gear  to  keep  ;  cash 

He'll  hand  it  weel  thegether.              hold  together 

[The  poet  printed  this  with  the  title  "On  a  Celebrated  Rul- 
ing Elder."  Every  aniiotator  hitherto  had  held  it  to  apply  to 
one  of  the  elders  of  Mauchline  kirk  who  aided  in  the  persecution 
of  Gavin  Hamilton.  It  now  appears,  however,  that  one  of  the 
Tarbolton  elders  had,  at  a  much  earlier  period,  also  provoked  the 
poet's  hostility — not  certainly  by  his  hypocrisy,  but  by  his  ex- 
treme penuriousness.  The  epitaph  is  recorded  in  the  Common- 
place Book,  along  with  the  following,  under  date  April,  1784.] 


EPITAPH    ON    MY   OWN    FRIEND    AND    MY 

FATHER'S  FRIEND,  WM.  MUIR,  IN 

TARBOLTON   MIEE. 

(CuRRii-;,  iSoo.) 

An  honest  man  here  lies  at  rest, 
As  e'er  God  with  his  image  blest ; 
The  friend  of  man,  the  friend  of  tnith, 
The  friend  of  age,  and  guide  of  yonth : 
Few  hearts  like  his — with  virtne  warm'd, 
Few  heads  with  knowledge  so  informed  : 
If  there's  another  world,  he  lives  in  bliss  ; 
If  there  is  none,  he  made  the  best  of  this. 

[We  take  the  title  of  this  from  the  original  Common-place  Book. 
Currie's  heading  is  simply  "Epitaph  on  a  I'Vicnd."  This  has 
always  been  regarded  as  one  of  the  finest  of  the  poet's  numerous 
compliments,    paid    in    a    posthumous    form,    to    hale    and    hearty 


60  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1784. 

friends.  The  subject  of  it  was  the  tenant  of  "Willie's  Mill"  of 
Death  and  Dr.  Hornbook,  and  a  life-long  friend  of  Bums  and  his 
relations.     He  died  in  1793. 

The  opening  line  reads  thus  in  the  early  MS.- 

Here  lies  a  cheerful,  honest  breast.] 


EPITAPH  ON  MY  EVER  HONOURED  FATHER. 

(Kilmarnock  Ed.,  1786.) 

O  YE  whose  cheek  the  tear  of  pity  stains, 

Draw  near  with  pious  rev'rence,  and  attend  ! 
Here  lie  the  loving  husband's  dear  remains, 

The  tender  father,  and  the  gen'rous  friend  ; 
The  pitying  heart  that  felt  for  human  w^e, 

The  dauntless  heart  that  fear'd  no  human  pride  ; 
The  friend  of  man — to  vice  alone  a  foe  ; 

For  "ev'en  his  failings  leaned  to  virtue's  side." 

[It  is  not  likely  (although  not  impossible)  that  this  well-known 
Epitaph,  like  the  preceding,  was  composed  during  the  lifetime  of 
the  subject  of  it.  We  find  it  recorded  on  the  same  page,  and 
under  the  same  date  (April,  1784),  as  that  to  William  Muir  in  the 
original  Common-place  Book.  Instead  of  the  opening  line,  as  iu 
the  text,  he  has  there  written — 

"  O  ye  who  sympathize  with  virtue's  pains ;" 

and  apparently  not  satisfied   with    that,  he   suggests,  at  foot  of  the 

page— 

"O  ye  whose  hearts  deceased  merit  pains." 

The  improvement  effected  in  that  line,  as  afterwards  published,  is 
very  striking.  The  death  of  William  Burnes  happened  at  Lochlea, 
on  13th  February,  1784.  These  lines  of  the  son  were  engraved  on 
the  father's  headstone  in  Alloway  kirkyard ;  and  the  reader,  in 
musing  over  it,  is  apt  to  revert  to  the  memorable  words  of  John 
Murdoch: — "O  for  a  world  of  men  of  such  dispositions!  I  have 
often  wished,  for  the  good  of  mankind,  that  it  were  as  custom- 
ary to  honor  and  perpetuate  the  memory  of  those  who  excel 
in  moral  rectitude,  as  it  is  to  extol  what  are  called  heroic  ac- 
tions. Then  would  the  mausoleum  of  the  friend  of  my  youth 
overtop  and  surpass  most  of  those  we  see  in  Westminster  Ab- 
bey !  "J 


Mt.  26.]  f  POEMvS   AND   SONGS.  61 


[The  following  picture  of  how  tlie  position  of  affairs  during  the 
Colonial  struggle  was  viewed  in  Scotland,  by  liberals  like  Burns, 
has  never  been  surpassed  for  graphic  force  and  hajjpy  terseness  of 
expression.  We  do  not  remember  to  have  seen  it  heretofore  al- 
luded to;  we  presume  the  oversight  is  due  to  its  being  "chiefly 
in  the  Scottish  dialect."  Now  that  we  have  rendered  it  intelligi- 
ble to  American  readers  we  believe  it  will  be  better  appreciated.— 
J-H.] 

BALLAD  ON  THE  AMERICAN  WAR. 

Tune — "  Killiecrankie." 
(Edinburgh  Ed.,  17S7.) 

When  Guildford  g-ood  our  pilot  stood, 

An'   did   our  hcllijn  tJiraii\  man  ;      heim      twist 
Ae  night,  at  tea,  began  a  plea,  one 

Within  America,  man  : 
Then  up  they  gat  the  maskin-pat^  tea-pot 

And  in  the  sea  did  jau\  man  ;  pour 

An'  did  nae  less,   in  full  congress, 

Than  quite  refuse  our  law,  man. 

Then  thro'  the  lakes  Montgomery*  takes, 

I  ivat  he  was  na  slcuv^   man  ;  wot     slow 

Down  Lowric's  Burn  f  he  took  a  turn, 

And  Carleton  did  ca',   man  : 
But  yet,   zvhatrcck^   he,   at  Quebec,  of  wiiat  avail 

Montgomery-like  I  did  fa\   man,  fan 

Wi'   sword    in  hand,   before  his  band, 

Amang  his  en'mies  a\  man.  "H 

*  General  Richard  Montgomery  invaded  Canada,  autumn  1775,  and  took  Mon- 
treal,— the  British  commander,  Sir  (»uy  Carleton,  retiring-  before  him.  In  an 
attack  on  Quebec  he  was  less  fortunate,  being  killed  by  a  storm  of  grape-shot  iu 
leading  on  his  men  at  Cape  Diamond. 

t  Lowrie's  Bum,  a  pseudonym  for  the  St.  Lawrence. 

\  A  passing  compliment  to  the  Monlgomcrics  of  Coilsficld,  the  patrons  of  the 
poet. 


62  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1784. 

Poor  Tammy  Gage  within  a  cage 

Was  kept  at  Boston-lia' , *  man; 
Till  Willie  Howe  took  o'er  the  knowe  high  grouna 

For  Philadelphia,  f  man  ; 
Wi'  sword  an'  gun  he  thought  a  sin 

Guid  christian  bluid  to  draw,  man  ;   good    biood 
But  at  New- York,   wP  knife  an'  fork,  with 

Sir- Loin  he  hacked  sma',|  man. 

Burgoyne  gaed  up,  like  spur  an'  whip,  went 

Till  Fraser  brave  did  fa' ,  man  ;  fan 

Then  lost  his  way,  ae  misty  day,  one 

In  Saratoga  shaw,  man.§  forests 

Comwallis  fought   as  lang's  he  doughty  was  able 

An'  did  the  buckskins  claw,||  m5n  ; 
But  Clinton's  glaive  frae  rust  to  save, 

He  hung  it  to  the  'wa\  man.  wau 

Then  Montague,  an'  Guildford  too, 

Began  to  fear  a  fa',  man  ; 
And  Sackville  doiir^  wha  stood  the  stourc^  ^*"^duTt} 

The  Gennan  chief**  to  thraw^  man:        thwart 


♦General  Gage,  governor  of  Massachusetts,  was  cooped  up  in  Boston  by  Gen- 
eral Washington  during  the  latter  part  of  1775  and  early  part  of  1776.  In  conse- 
quence of  his  inefficiency,  he  was  replaced  in  October  of  that  year  by  General 
Howe. 

t  General  Howe  removed  his  army  from  New  York  to  Philadelphia  in  the 
summer  of  1777. 

X  Alluding  to  a  razzia  made  by  orders  of  Howe  at  Peekskill,  March,  1777,  when 
a  large  quantity  of  cattle  belonging  to  the  Americans  was  destroyed. 

\  General  Burgoyne  surrendered  his  army  to  General  Gates,  at  Saratoga,  on 
the  Hudson,  October,  1776. 

H  Alluding  to  the  active  operations  of  I,ord  Comwallis  in  Virginia,  in  1780,  all 
of  which  ended,  however,  in  his  surrender  of  his  army  at  Yorktown,  October, 
1781,  while  vainly  hoping  for  reinforcements  from  General  Clinton  at  New  York. 

**The  German  chief  was  Baron  Steuben,  a  general  of  the  Revolutionary  Array. 
He  was  a  native  of  Prussia,  and  adjutant-general  in  its  army.  Being  in  Paris 
in  1777,  he  was  invited  by  St.  Germain  to  go  to  America,  and  forthwith  set  out 
and  joined  Washington  at  Valley  Forge.  In  1780  he  held  a  command  in  Virginia, 
and  was  on  the  staff  of  General  Lafayette  at  the  siege  of  Yorktown.  Having 
spent  his  whole  fortune  on  his  men.  Congress,  in  1790,  voted  him  an  annuity  ol 
$2,5oq   and  a  township  of  land  in  the  State  of  New  York. — ^J.  H. 


ST.   25.]  ^  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  68 

• 

For  Paddy  Burke,  *  like  ony  Turk, 

Nae  mercy  had  at  a',  man  ; 
An'   Charlie  Fox  threw  by  the  box,  aside 

An'  lows'' d  his  tinkler  jaw,  man.  unloosed 

Then  Rockingham  took  up  the  game  ; 

Till  death  did  on  him  ca\  man  ;  c*u 

When  Shelburne  meek  held  up  his  cheek, 

Conform  to  gospel  law,  man : 
Saint  Stephen's  boys,  wi'  jarring  noise. 

They  did  his  measures  thraw^  man  ;  thwart 

For  North  an'   Fox  imited  stocks. 

An'  bore  him  to  the  wa,'  man.f 

Then  clubs  and  hearts  were  Charlie's  carteSy     cards 

He  swept  the  stakes  awa',  man. 
Till  the  diamond's  ace,  of  Indian  race, 

Led  him  a  sair  faux  pas^  man  :  % 
The  Saxon  lads,  wi'  loud  placads^  plaudits 

On  Chatham's  boy  §  did  ca',  man; 
An'   Scotland  drew  her  pipe  an'  blew, 

*'Up,  Willie,   zcaitr  them  a',  man  !  "  |1        worst 

Behind  the  throne  then  Granville's  gone, 

A  secret  word  or  twa,  man  ; 
While  slee  Dundas  arous'd  the  class  sij 

Be-north  the  Roman  wa',  man  : 

♦Edmund  Burke  advocated  a  policy  of  justice  and  conciliation  towards  America, 
which,  had  it  been  adopted,  would  have  averted  (at  least  for  a  time)  the  War  of 
Independence. — J.  H. 

f  Lord  North's  administratjon  was  succeeded  by  that  of  the  Marquis  of  Rock- 
injiham,  March,  1782.  At  the  death  of  the  latter  in  the  succeeding  July,  I.ord 
Shelburne  became  prime  minister,  and  Mr.  Fox  resigned  his  secretaryship. 
Under  his  lordship,  peace  was  restored,  January,  1783.  By  the  union  of  Lord 
North  and  Mr.  Fo.x,  Lord  Shelburne  was  .soon  after  forced  to  resign  in  favor  of 
his  rivals,  the  heads  of  the  celebrated  coalition. 

t  Fox's  famous  India  Bill,  by  which  his  ministry  was  brought  to  destruction 
December,  1783. 

g  William  Pitt,  second  son  of  the  Karl  of  Chatham.— J.  H. 

I  A  ovular  Scottish  souif. 


64                                    POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1784. 

An'  Chatham's  zvraith,  in  heav' nly ^r«zM,  '^^^I'^eTj 

(Inspired  bardies  saw,   man),  poets 

Wi'  kindling  eyes,  cry'd,    "Willie,   rise! 
Would  I  hae  fear'd  them  a',  man?" 

But,  word  an'  blow.  North,  Fox  and  Co. 

Goivff'  d  Willie  like  a  ba',  man  ;  batted 

Till  Suthron  raise,  an  coost  their  claise  '^^^\  ^^i^""  \ 

'  clothes  j 

Behind  him  in  a  raw,  man  : 

An'  Caledon  threw  by  the  drone^  bagpipe 

An'  did  her  whittle  draw,  man  ;  sword 

An'  sivoor  fu'  rude,   thro'  dirt  an'  bluid,  swore 

To  niak  it  guid  in  law,  man.* 


[With  the  exception  of  a  very  few  expressions  in  the  foregoing 
piece,  it  does  not  seem  to  have  attracted  popular  attention.  It 
was  most  likely  a  production  of  the  spring  of  1784,  although 
not  published  in  the  author's  first  edition.  He  applied  to  the 
Earl  of  Glencairn  and  to  Mr.  Erskine,  Dean  of  Faculty,  for 
their  opinion  as  to  the  policy  of  including  it  in  his  Edinburgh 
volume,  and  they  seem  to  have  approved  of  it.  Dr.  Blair  very 
characteristically  remarked,  on  reading  the  ballad,  that  "  Burns' 
politics  smell  of  the  smithy."  This  may  be  true,  but  the  poli- 
tics of  the  smithy  regarding  these  matters  did  ultimately  pre» 
vail.] 


REPLY  TO  AN   ANNOUNCEMENT   BY  J.  RAN- 

KINE 

THAT    A    GIRI,    IN    HIS     NEIGHBORHOOD    WAS    WITH    CHII.D    TO  TH3 

POET. 

(Stewart,  1801.) 

I  AM  a  keeper  of  the  law 

In  some  smd'  points,  altho'  not  a'  ;     smaii     *ii 


*In  the  new  parliament  called  by  Mr.  Pitt,  after  his  accession  to  oflSce  in  the 
spring  of  1784,  amidst  the  many  new  members  brought  in  for  his  support,  and 
that  of  the  king's  prerogative,  there  was  an  exceeding  proportion  from  Scotland. 


«T.  26.]  ^         POEMS  AND  SONGS.  65 

# 

Some  people  tell  me  giti  I  fa\  if     faii 

Ae  way  or  ither,  one 

The  breaking  of  ae  point,  tlio'  sma', 

Breaks  a'   tJicgither.'^  together 

I  hae  been  in  for't  mice  or  twice,  have  once 
And  wmna  say  d'  er  far  for  thrice  ;  win  not  too 
Yet  never  met  wi'   that  surprise 

That  broke  my  rest  ; 
But  now  a  rumor's  like  to  rise — 

curlew  or^ 
A  Whaup' S  i'   the  nest  !  f  screamer/ 

[The  girl  Elizabeth  Paton,  referred  to  iu  Rankine's  announce- 
ment, had  been  a  servant  at  Lochlea  about  the  period  of  the 
Poet's  father's  death,  in  Feb.,  17S4.  Thereafter,  when  the  Burnes 
family  removed  to  Mossgiel,  the  girl  went  to  her  own  home  at 
Ivargieside,  in  Rankine's  neighborhood.  In  the  natural  course 
of  events,  the  poet  had  soon  occasion  to  write  his  famous 
"Epistle"  to  the  same .  correspondent,  on  the  subject  of  the  pre- 
ceding verses.  That  production  accordingly  now  follows  as  a 
proper  sequel.] 


EPISTLE  TO  JOHN  RANKINE,  FARMER,  ADAM- 
HILL, 

E^rCLOSING  SOME  POEMS. 

(KiivMARNOCK  Ed.,  1786.) 
O  ROUGH,  rude,  ready-witted  Rankine,    ^  .     , 

'  '  ^  '    choice  of  good  ■» 

The  wale  d'  cocks  for  fun  an'  drinking!  feiiowsf 

There's  mony  godly  folks  are  thinking. 

Your  dreams  %  and  tricks 
Will  send  you  Korah-like  a-sinkin, 

Straught  to  auld  Nick's.      straight 

•James  ii.  10. 
fThe  girl  is  pregnant. 

t  A  certaiu  humorous  dream  of  his  was  then  making  a  noise  iu  the  couutry 
Jide.— /?.  B. 

1.  K 


66  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1784. 

Ye  hae  sae  mony  cracks  an'  cants,  * 

And  in  your  wicked,  dnicken  j^aiits^       drunken  frolics 

Ye  mak  a  devil  o'  the  saiints^  saints 

An'  fill  tliem  fou  ;  fuii 

And  then  their  failings,  flaws,  an'  wants, 

Are  a'  seen  thro'. 

Hypocrisy,  in  mercy  spare  it ! 

That  holy  robe,   O  dimia  tear  it !  do  not 

Spare' t  for  their  sakes,  wha  aften  wear  it — 

The  lads  in  black  ; 
But  your  curst  wit,  when  it  comes  near  it, 

Rives'  t  ajf  their  back,      tears  it  from 

Think,  wicked  Sinner,  wha  ye' re  skaithing  :  harming 
It's  just  the  'Blue-gown'  badge  an'  claithingf 
O'  saunts ;  tak  that,  ye  lea' e  them  nae thing  ^\^^ 

To  ken  them  by,  know 

Frae  ony  unregenerate  heathen,  from 

lyike  you  or  I. 

I've  sent  you  here  some  rhymin  ware, 

A^  that  I  bargained  for,  an'   mair  ;  aii     more 

Sae^  when  ye  hae  an  hour  to  spare,  »» 

I  will  expect. 

Yon  sang  I  ye' 11  sen't,  wi'  cannie  care,  quiet 

And  710  neglect.  not 

Tho'  faith,  sma'  heart  hae  I  to  sing  !  have 

My  muse  dow  scarcely  spread  her  wing  ;  can 


*  You  have  so  many  stories  and  merry  tales. — J.  H. 

■)■  "Blue  gowns"  were  an  order  of  licensed  beggars  in  Scotland,  wearing  a  badge 
and  a  blue  cloak  or  gown.  They  were  called  the  king's  bedesmen.  The  prac- 
tice of  appointing  "blue  gowns"  was  discontinued  in  1833,  and  the  last  survivor 
died  in  1S63.     The  Scotch  clergy  wear  black  gowns  as  their  "  claithing." — ^J.  H. 

X  A  song  he  had  promised  the  author. — R.  B. 


fitl.  26.]  ^  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  67 

I've  play'd  mysel  a  douie  springy  Cue  tune 

An'  danc'd  my  fill!* 

I'd  better  gaen  an'  sairH  the  king,  served 

At  Bunker's  Hill. 

'Twas  ae  niglit  lately,  in  my  fun, 

I  gaed  a  rovin  wi'  the  gun,  f 

An'  brought  a  paitrick  to  the  gruii' —  partridge  ground 

A  bonie  hen  ; 
And,  as  the  twilight  was  begun. 

Thought  iiane  wad  ken.  °°°^  would  ^ 

^  know      j 

The  poor,  wee  thing  was  little  hurt  ; 

I  straiket  it  a  zvee  for  sport,  stroked        nttie 

Ne'  er  thinkin  they  wad  fash  me  for' t  ;  trouble 

But,   Deil-ma-care  ! 
Somebody  tells  the  poacher-court^  kirk-session 

The  hale  affair.  whole 

Some  auld^  US'  d  hands  had  ta'en  a  note,  old  experienced 
That  sic  a  hen  had  got  a  shot  ;  such 

I  was  suspected  for  the  plot  ;  of 

I  scorn' d  to  lee  ; 
So  gat  the  whissle  o'  my  groat,  % 

An'  pay't  the  fee. 

But,  by  my  gun,  o'  guns  the  wale^  choice 

An'  by  my  pouther  an''  my  hail^  powder  and  shot 

An'  by  my  hen,  an'  by  her  tail, 

I  vow  an'  swear  ! 
The  game  shall  pay,  owre  moor  an'  dale, 

-  For  this,   niest  year.  next 

*I  have  got  myself  into  a  nice  mess. — J.  71. 

|- A  sporting  simile  for  unlicensed  courting. 

I  Was  mulcted  in  or  ordered  to  pay  the  penalty.  Before  the  introduction  of 
poor  laws  into  Scotland,  fornicators  were  fined  by  the  kirk-session,  the  money 
going  for  behoof  of  the  poor.  In  very  early  times  the  fine  was  a  groat  or  4*/. 
sterling,  whence  the  word  came  to  be  .synonymous  with  fine.  Later  the  fine 
was  a  guinea,  or  higher  according  to  the  circumstances  of  the  culprit. — ^J.  H. 


68  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1784. 

As  soon's  the  clockin-time  is  by,  hatching-time 

An'  the  wee  pouts  began  to  cry,  puuets 
ly — d,   I'se  hae  sportin  by  an'  by, 

For  my  gowd  guinea  ;  gold 

Tho'   I  should  herd  the  buckskin  kye  cows 

For't,  in  Virginia  !  * 

Trowth^  they  had  muckle  for  to  blame  !  in  truth    much 

'Twas  neither  broken  wing  nor  limb, 

But  twa-three  draps  about  the  wame^  flank 

Scarce  thro'   the  feathers  ; 
An'  baith  a  ' '  yellow  George  "  f  to  claim 

An'  tJiole  their  blethers !    bear  abuse 

It  pits  me  ay  as  mad's  a  hare  ;  puts     always 

So  I  can  rhyme  nor  write  nae  mair  ; 
But  pennyworths  again  is  fair, 

When  time's  expedient  :| 
Meanwhile  I  am,  respected  Sir, 

Your  most  obedient. 


[It  would  be  interesting  indeed  to  know  what  were  the  "poems  ' 
which  the  bard  transmitted  to  Rankine  along  with  this  epistle, 
and  even  to  learn  what  particular  song  he  had  craved  from  his 
jolly  correspondent.  Adamhill  is  in  Craigie  parish,  although  lying 
within  two  miles  west  of  Lochlea,  which  was  a  much  inferior 
farm.  The  special  trick  referred  to  in  the  second  stanza  was 
that  of  filling  a  sanctimonious  professor  miserably  drunk,  by  enter- 
taining him  to  a  jorum  of  toddy  at  the  farmhouse.  The  hot- 
water  kettle  had,  by  pre-arrangement,  been  primed  with  proof- 
whisky,  so  that  the  more  water  Rankine's  guest  added  to  his 
toddy  for  the  purpose  of  diluting  it,  the  more  potent  the  liquor 
became. 


♦It  was  the  custom  to  transport  convicts  to  the  "plantations"  in  Virginia.  We 
have  here,  probably,  the  origin  of  the  "poor  whites"  of  that  State. — J.  H. 

+  A  gold  guinea,  so-called  from  bearing  the  impress  of  one  of  the  Georges, 
kings  of  England.— J.  H. 

t  The  poet  here  intimates  that  he  means  to  "get  even"  with  the  Session  by 
taking  value  for  his  guinea  so  soon  as  opportunity  offers. — J.  H. 


JS^.  26.]  p        POEMS   AND  SONGS.  69 

Less  reprelieusible  instauces  of  liis  waggery  were  his  "humor- 
ous dreams,"  which  the  ready-witted  farmer  of  Adamhill  had  con- 
veniently at  hand  to  relate  whenever  he  desired  to  help  the 
progress   of  his   argument,  or   to   administer   a   rebuke.] 


[A  SEQUEI<  TO  THE  TWO  FOREGOING.] 

A  POET'S  WELCOME  TO  HIS  LOVE-BEGOT- 
TEN   DAUGHTER, 

The  first  instance  that  entitled  him  to  the  ven- 
erable APPELLATION  OF  FATHER. 

(Stewart,  1799,  compared  with  Glenriddeli.  MSS.,  1874). 

Thou's  welcome,  wean  ;  mishanter  fa^  me,  befau  i 

If  thoughts  o'   thee,  or  yet  thy  mamie,  of 

Shall  ever  daunton  me  or  awe  me,  daunt 

My  bonie  lady, 

Or  if  I  blush  when  thou  shalt  cd'  me  caii 

Tyta  or  daddie. 

The'  now  they  ca'  me  fornicator, 

An'  tease  my  name  in  kmtry  clatter^       country  gossip 

The  7nair  they  talk,  I'm  kent  the  better,  more,    known 

E'en  let  them  clash;  taik 

An  auld  wife's  tongue's  o.  feckless  matter  weak 

To  gie  ane  fash.  trouble 

Welcome  !  my  bonie,  sweet,  wee  dochter^  daughter 
Tho'  ye  come  here  a  wee  unsought  for,  littie  bit 

And  tho'  your  comin'   I  hae  fought  for, 

Baith  kirk  and  queir ;  *  choir 

Yet,  by  my  faith,  ye'' re  tto  unwrought  for,  you  were  not 

That  I  shall  swear  ! 


*  A  name    for  the    kirk-session   (before  which    fornicators  appeared),    from   its 
often  holding  its  meetings  in  the  choir.^.1.  H. 


70  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1784. 

Wee  image  o'   my  bonie  Betty, 

As  fatherly  I  kiss  and  daiit  tliee,  fondia 

As  dear,  and  near  my  heart  I  set  thee, 

Wi'  as  glide  will 
As  a'  the  priests  had  seen  me  get  thee  aii 

That's  out  o'  h— 11. 


Sweet  fruit  o'  mony  a  merry  dint,  manj 

My  funny  toil  is  now  a'   tint^  losi 

Sin'   thou  cam  to  the  war?   asklcnt^  iiiegitimateij 

Which  fools  may  scoff  at  ; 
In  my  last  plack  thy  part's  be  in'-t  coin 

The  better  ha'f  o't.  ^ 


Tho'   I  should  be  the  wmir  bestead^        worse  off  for  it 

Thou's  be    as  braiV  and  bicnly  clad,    finely  and  comfortably 

And  thy  young  years  as  nicely  bred 

Wi'  education. 
As  ony  brat  o'  wedlock's  bed. 

In  a'  thy  station. 


Lord  grant  that  thou  may  ay  inherit 
Thy  mither's  person,  grace,  an'  merit, 
An'  thy  poor,  worthless  daddy's  spirit. 

Without  his  failins, 
'Twill  please  me  mair  to  see  thee  heir  it, 

Than  stOCket  ViailenS.      well-stocked  farms 


For  if  thou  be  what  I  wad  Jiae  thee,  have 

And  tak  the  counsel  I  shall  gie  thee,  give 

I'll  never  rue  my  trouble  wi'  thee — 

The  cost  nor  shame  o't. 
But  be  a  loving  father  to  thee. 

And  brag  the  name  o't.  boast 


^T.  26.]  *         POEMS  AND  SONGS.  71 

[The  heading  to  the  above  poem  is  that  in  the  Glenriddell 
volume  preserved  in  Liverpool  ;  but  the  copy  entered  there  in 
Burns'  autograph  differs  considerably  from  that  first  given  to  the 
world  by  Stewart.  The  verses  are  differently  arranged,  and  the 
poem  contains  two  hitherto  unpublished  stanzas,  besides  an  entire 
remodelling  of  the  verse  which  is  last  in  the  Glenriddell  copy, 
and  the  fifth  in  Stewart.  By  some  inadvertency,  as  we  suppose. 
Burns,  in  transcribing  the  poem,  had  omitted  Stewart's  closing 
verse  (the  seventh  in  our  text),  which  is  so  fine  that  it  cannot 
be  dispensed  vnih.  Through  the  kindness  of  Dr.  Carruthers,  of 
Inverness,  we  have  been  supplied  with  a  copy  of  this  poem  which 
Burns  presented  to  the  aged  Wni.  Tytler,  Esq.,  of  Woodhouselee. 
It  corresponds  almost  entirely  with  the  Glenriddell  version,  and 
contains  the  stanza  wanting  there.  That  and  other  Burns'  MSS., 
to  be  hereafter  noticed,  are  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Tytler's  great- 
grandson,  Colonel   Fraser-Tytler,    of  Aldourie. 

The  child — born  in  Nov.,  1784 — was  tenderly  reared  and  educated 
at  Mossgiel  under  the  care  of  the  poet's  mother  and  sisters. 
When  "Betty  Burns"  arrived  at  the  age  of  twenty-one  years, 
she  received  ;^200  as  a  marriage-portion  out  of  a  fund  that  had 
been  subscribed  for  the  widow  and  children  of  the  bard.  She 
bore  a  striking  resemblance  to  her  father,  and  became  the  wife 
of  Mr.  John  Bishop,  overseer  at  Polkemmet,  Linlithgowshire,  and 
died  in  December,  18 16,  at  the  age  of  thirty -two.  We  have  heard 
nothing  of  her  offspring  or  her  descendants. 

The  third  and  sixth  stanzas  are  those  that  were  brought  to 
light  in   1874  from  the  Glenriddell   MSS. 

The  public  is  now  in  possession  of  the  complete  poem,  with 
the  author's  last  touches.] 


SONG— O  IvEAVE  NOVEIvS. 

(CtTRRIE,    1 801.) 

O  LEAVE  novels,*  ye  Maucliline  belles, 
Ye' re  safer  at  your  spinning-wheel  ; 

Such  witching  books  are  baited  hooks 
For  rakish  rooks  like  Rob  Mossgiel  ; 


*  The  Ayrshire  pronunciation  of  novel  is  (or  was)  no-veV,  beinpf,  as  is  the  case 
with  many  Scotch  w<5rds,  closer  to  the  sound  of  the  Frencli  original  than  the 
JJnglish  prouuuciatiou  is. — J.  H. 


72  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1784- 

Your  fine  Tom  Jones  and  Grandisons, 
They  make  your  youthful  fancies  reel  ; 

They  heat  your  brains,  and  fire  your  veins, 
And  then  you're  prey  for  Rob  Mossgiel. 

Beware  a  tongue  that's  smoothly  hung, 

A  heart  that  warmly  seems  to  feel  ; 
That  feeling  heart  but  acts  a  part — 

'Tis  rakish  art  in  Rob  Mossgiel. 
The  frank  address,  the  soft  caress, 

Are  worse  than  poisoned  darts  of  steel ; 
The  frank  address,  and  politesse, 

Are  all  finesse  in  Rob  Mossgiel.  -■ 

[This  song  contains  excellent  advice  to  the  young  women  of 
Mauchliue.  It  would  have  been  well  for  at  least  one  of  those 
"belles"  had  she  acted  on  the  poet's  candid  warning;  but,  accord- 
ing to  the  philosophy  of  a  reverend  biographer  of  Burns,  whose 
observations  are  commended  by  Lockhart — "To  warn  the  young 
and  unsuspecting  of  their  danger,  is  only  to  stimulate  their  curi- 
osity."    The  warning,  in  that  case,  were  better  withheld.] 


FRAGMENT— THE  MAUCHLINE  LADY. 

(Cromek,    1808.) 

When  first  I  came  to  Stewart  Kyle, 

My  mind  it  was  na  steady  ;  not 

Where'er  I  gaed^  where'er  I  rade^  went     rode 

A  mistress  still  I  had  ay  : 

But  when  I  came  roun'  by  Mauchline  toun, 

Not  dreadin  anybody, 
My  heart  was  caught,  before  I  thought. 

And  by  a  Mauchline  lady. 

[If  the  Epistle  to  Davie  was  composed  in  January,  1785,  then  it 
follows  that  the  poet's  first  rencontre  with  Jean  Armour  was  in  the 
summer  of  1784.     The   present  fragment,  in   that  case,  must   apply 


X.r.  26.]  •  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  73 

to  her.     It  is  a  free  parody  of  the  old  song,   "I  had  a  horse  and  I 
had  nae  mair,"  to  which  tune  the  author  directs  it  to  be  set. 

"Stewart  Kyle,"  or  Kyle-Stewart,  is  that  part  of  the  central  dis- 
trict of  Ayrshire  which  lies  between  the  rivers  Irvine  and  Ayr. 
The  poet  was  originally  of  "King  Kyle,"  or  Kyle-Carrick — the 
district  between  the  Ayr  and  the  Doou.  He  shifted  to  Stewart 
Kyle  on  leaving  Mount  Oliphant  for  Lochlea,  in    1777.] 


FRAGMENT— MY  GIRL  SHE'S  AIRY. 

Tune — "Black  Jock." 
(Orig.   C0MMON-PI.ACE  Book,    1872.) 

[See  Introduction  to  Common-place  Book.] 

My  girl  she's  air}',  she's  buxom  and  gay  ; 

Her  breath  is  as  sweet  as  the  blossoms  in  May  ; 

A  touch  of  her  lips  it  ravishes  quite  : 
She's  always  good  natur'd,  good  humor' d,   and  free  ; 
She  dances,  she  glances,  she  smiles  upon  me  ; 

I  never  am  happy  when  out  of  her  sight. 

Her  slender  neck,  her  handsome  waist. 
Her  hair  well  curled,  her  stays  well  lac'd, 
Her  taper  white  leg  with 
For  her        ...... 

And  O  for  the  joys  of  a  long  winter  night. 

[The  above  fragment  of  a  song  the  poet  records  in  his  Com- 
mon-place Book,  under  date  September,  1784.  The  editor  of  the 
printed  copy  of  that  curious  MS.  has  noted  that  in  the  original 
there  is  some  "defect,"  where  the  blanks  are  filled  up  with 
asterisks.  Had  the  fragment  been  recorded  a  year  later,  we 
might  safely  assume  that  Jean  Annour  was  the  "airy  girl"  here 
sketched  out.] 

THE  BELLES  OF  MAUCHLINE. 

(CURRIK,    1800.) 

In  Mauchline  there  dwells  six  proper  young  belles, 
The  pride  of  the  place  and  its  neighborhood  a'  ; 

Their  carriage  and  dress,  a  stranger  would  guess, 
In  London  or  Paris,   they'd  gotten  it  a'. 


74  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1784. 


Miss  Miller  is  fine.  Miss  Markland's  divine, 

{gaily 
dressed 

There's  beauty  and  fortune  to  get  wi'   Miss  Morton, 
But  Armour's  the  jewel  for  me  o'   them  a'. 


I 


[For  the  sake  of  the  interest  involved  in  whatever  interested 
Burns,  the  after-history  of  the  "six  proper  young  belles,"  cata- 
logued by  him  in  this  little  piece,  has  been  traced  and  is  here 
recorded.  Miss  Helen  Miller  married  Burns'  friend,  Dr.  Macken- 
zie. The  ' '  divine ' '  Miss  Markland  was  married  to  Mr.  James 
Findlay,  an  officer  of  excise,  first  at  Tarbolton,  afterwards  at 
Greenock.  The  witty  Miss  Jean  Smith  bestowed  herself  upon  Mr. 
James  Candlish,  who,  like  Findlay,  was  a  friend  of  Burns.  The 
"  braw  "  Miss  Betty  Miller  became  Mrs.  Templeton  ;  she  was  sister 
of  No.  I,  and  died  early  in  life.  Miss  Morton  ^ave  her  "  beauty 
and  fortune"  to  Mr.  Paterson,  a  merchant  in  MaUthline.  Of  Ar- 
mour's history,  Immortality  has  taken  charge.  The  last  survivor 
died  in  January,  1854 ;  she  was  mother  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  Cand- 
lish, of  Edinburgh,  an  eminent  minister  in  the  Free  Church  of 
Scotland,  and  latterly  Principal  of  the  Free  Church  College,  Edin- 
burgh, who  was  laid  beside  his  parents  in  Old  Calton,  at  Edin- 
burgh, in  October,  1873.] 


EPITAPH  ON  A  NOISY  POLEMIC. 

(Kilmarnock  Ed.,   1786.) 

Below  tkir  stanes  lie  Jamie's  banes  ;  these 

O  Death,  it's  my  opinion, 
Thou  ne'er  took  such  a  bletJi'rin  b-tch    blathering 

Into  thy  dark  dominion  ! 

[The  subject  of  this  versicle  was  James  Humphrey,  a  jobbing 
mason,  well-known  in  Mauchline  and  Tarbolton  for  his  tendency 
to  talk  on  matters  of  church  doctrine.  He  used  to  hint  that  the 
poet  had  satirized  him  in  revenge  for  being  beaten  by  Humphrey 
in  an  argument.  He  died  in  1844  at  the  advanced  age  of  86,  an 
inmate  of  Faile  poor's-house ;  and  many  an  alms-offering  he  earned 
in  consequence  of   Bums'  epitaph.] 

(He  used  to  introduce  himself  to  visitors,  from  whom  he  hoped 
to  get  a  trifle,  with:  "Please,  sir,  I'm  'the  bleth'ria  bitch.'"— 
J.  H.) 


«T,  26.  J  ,  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  75 


EPITAPH  ON  A  HENPECKED  SQUIRE. 

(KlI,MARNOCK   Ed.,    17S6.) 

As  father  Adam  first  was  fool'd, 
(A  case  that's  still  too  common,) 

Here  lies  a  man  a  woman  ruled 
The  devil  ruled  the  woman. 


EPIGRAM  ON  THE  SAID  OCCASION. 

O  Death,  had'st  thou  but  spar'd  his  life, 

Whom  we  this  day  lament ! 

We  freely  wad  exchanged  the  wife,  would  have 

And  a'  been  weel  content.  aii 

Ev'n  as  he  is,  can  Id  in  his  graffy  coid     grave 

The  swap  we  yet  will  do't ;  exchange 

Tak  thou  the  carlin's  carcass  aff^  oaf 

Thoiise  get  the  saiil  d'  boot,    you  win  soui  to  boot 


•     ANOTHER. 

One  Queen  Artemisa,  as  old  stories  tell, 
When  deprived  of  her  husband  she  loved  so  well, 
In  respect  for  the  love  and  affection  he  show'd  her, 
She  reduced  him  to  dust  and  she  drank  up  the  powder. 
But  Queen  Netherplace,  of  a  dift'rent  complexion. 
When  called  on  to  order  the  fun'ral  direction, 
Would  have  eat  her  dead  lord,  on  a  slender  pretence. 
Not  to  show  her  respect,  but — to  save  the  expence  ! 

[The  three  foregoing  epigrams  were  directed  against  Mr.  Camp- 
bell, of  Netherplace,  and  his  wife,  whose  house  and  grounds  the 
poet  daily  passed  ^  on  his  way  between  Mossgiel  and  Mauchline. 
After  publication  in  his  first  edition  they  were  withdrawn.] 


76  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1784. 

ON   TAM   THE   CHAPMAN. 

(Ai,DiNE  Ed.,  1839.) 

As  Tarn  the  chapman  on  a  day, 

Wi'   Death  forgather^  d  by  the  way,      met  accidentally 

Weel  pleas' d,  he  greets  a  wight  so  famous, 

And  Death  was  na  less  pleas' d  wi'  Thomas,     no 

Wha  cheerfully  lays  down  his  pack, 

And  there  blazvs  up  a  hearty  crack:  begins       chat 

His  social,  friendly,  honest  heart 

Sae  tickled  Death,   they  could  7ia,  part  ;     so     not 

Sae,  after  viewing  knives  and  garters. 

Death  taks  him  hame  to  gie  him  quarters,     grive 

[Tliis  was  first  brought  to  life  by  William  Cobbett,  who  printed  it 
in  his  Magazine.  It  had  been  communicated  to  him  by  the  sub- 
ject of  the  epitaph,  by  name  Thomas  Kennedy,  then  an  aged 
person  resident  in  London.  He  represented  himself  as  having 
known  the  poet  in  very  early  life,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Ayr, 
where  both  were  born  and  brought  up.  Kennedy  afterwards  be- 
came a  travelling  agent  for  a  mercantile  house  in  a  country 
town  near  Mauchline,  where  he  renewed  acquaintance  with  Bums. 
These  lines  were  composed  on  Kennedy's  recovery  from  a  severe 
illness. 

This  trifle  may  have  suggested  to  Bums  the  idea  afterwards 
work«<}  •^ut  in    "  Death  and  Dr.    Hornbook."] 


EPITAPH   ON  JOHN   RANKINE. 

(Stewart,  1801.) 

Ae  day,  as  Death,   that  gruesome  carl^   grimfeiiow 
Was  driving  to  the  tithcr  warl'  the  other 

A  mixtie-maxtie  motley  squad,  much  mixed 

And  mony  a  giiilt-bespotted  lad — 
Black  gowns  of  each  denomination, 
And  thieves  of  ever}'  rank  and  station, 


Mr.  26.]  I  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  77 

From  him  that  wears  the  star  and  garter, 

To  him  that  wintles  in  a  halter  :  wnggies 

Ashamed  himself  to  see  the  wretches, 

He  mutters,  ghnvrin  at  the  bitches,  staring 

"  Bv  G — d  I'll  not  be  seen  behint  them, 

-'  _  '  corps  or% 

Nor  'mang  the  sp' ritual  ror<7  present  them, company; 
Without,  at  least,  ac  honest  man,  one 

To  grace  this  d d  infernal  clan  ! ' ' 

By  Adamhill  *  a  glance  he  threw, 
"  L— d  God  !  "  quoth  he,    "  I  have  it  now  ; 
There's  just  the  man  I  want,  i'   faith  !  " 
And  quickly  stoppit  Rankine's  breath. 

[This  is  another  in  the  same  vein  as  the  preceding.  Cromek 
has  observed  that  the  first  idea  of  the  lines  seems  to  have  been 
suggested  by  Falstaff 's  account  of  his  ragged  recruits  : — "  I'll  not 
march  through  Coventry  with  them,  that's  flat ! ' '  The  piece  would 
be  as  much  to  Rankine's  taste  as  a  similar  compliment,  some 
few  years  thereafter,  was  relished  by  Capt.  Grose.] 


LINES   ON   THE  AUTHOR'S   DEATH, 

written  with   the   supposed  view  of  being   handed 
to  rankine  after  the  poet's  interment. 

(Stewart,  1801.) 

He  who  of  Rankine  sang,  lies  stiff  and  dead, 
And  a  green  grassy  hillock  hides  his  head  ; 
Alas  !  alas  !  a  devilish  change  indeed. 

[These  lines    must    be   regarded   as   a   counterpart    to   the   poet's 
elegy  on   himself,  composed   shortly   afterwards,  beginning, — 

"  Now  Robin  lies  in  his  last  lair, 
He'll  gabble  rhyme  and  sing  nae  mair."] 

•  The  residence  of  his  friend,  John   Rankiue,  to  whom  he  addresses  a  famoui 
"  EpifiUe."— See  p.  "^5— J-  H- 


78  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1784, 

MAN  WAS   MADE  TO  MOURN:    A  DIRGE. 

(KlL,MARNOCK    Ed.,     1 786.) 

When  chill  November's  surly  blast 

Made  fields  and  forests  bare, 
One  ev'ning,  as  I  wander' d  forth 

Along  the  banks  of  Ayr, 
I  spied  a  man,  whose  aged  step 

Seem'd  weary,  worn  with  care  ; 
His  face  was  furrow' d  o'er  with  years, 

And  hoary  was  his  hair. 

"  Young  stranger,  whither  wand' rest  thou?'* 

Began  the  rev' rend  sage  ; 
"  Does  thirst  of  wealth  thy  step  constrain, 
Or  youthful  pleasure's  rage  ? 
Or  haply,  prest  with  cares  and  woes, 

Too  soon  thou  hast  began 
To  wander  forth,  with  me  to  mourn 
The  miseries  of  man. 

"  The  sun  that  overhangs  yon  moors, 

Out-spreading  far  and  wide, 
Where  hundreds  labor  to  support 

A  haughty  lordling's  pride  ; — 
I've  seen  yon  weary  winter-sun 

Twice  forty  times  return  ; 
And  ev'ry  time  has  added  proofs. 

That  man  was  made  to  mourn. 

*'  O  man  !   while  in  thy  early  years, 
How  prodigal  of  time  ! 
Mis-spending  all  thy  precious  hours— 
Thy  glorious,  youthful  prime  ! 


^T.  26.]         -  *  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  79 

Alternate  follies  take  the  sway  ; 

Licentious  passions  burn  ; 
Which  tenfold  force  gives  Nature's  law, 

That  man  was  made  to  mourn. 

**  Look  not  alone  on  youthful  prime, 
Or  manhood's  active  might  ; 

Man  then  is  useful  to  his  kind, 
Supported  is  his  right  : 

But  see  him  on  the  edge  of  life, 
With  cares  and  sorrows  worn  ; 

Then  Age  and  Want — oh  !  ill-match' d  pair- 
Shew  man  was  made  to  mourn. 

**  A  few  seem  favorites  of  fate, 

In  pleasure's  lap  carest ; 
Yet  think  not  all  the  rich  and  great 

Are  likewise  truly  blest : 
But  oh  !   what  crowds  in  ev'ry  land, 

All  wretched  and  forlorn, 
Thro'  weary  life  this  lesson  learn. 

That  man  was  made  to  mourn  ! 

**  Many  and  sharp  the  num'rous  ills 

Inwoven  with  our  frame  ! 
More  pointed  still  we  make  ourselves. 

Regret,  remorse,   and  shame  ; 
And  man,  whose  heav'n-erected  face 

The  smiles  of  love  adorn, — 
Man's  inhumanity  to  man 

Makes  countless  thousands  mourn  ! 

**  See  yonder  poor,  o'erlabor'd  wight. 
So  abject,  mean,  and  vile. 
Who  begs  a  brother  of  the  earth 
To  give  him  leave  to  toil  ; 


80  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [xjSi 

And  see  his  lordly  fellow-worm 

The  poor  petition  spurn, 
Unmindful,  tho'  a  weeping  wife 

And  helpless  offspring  mourn. 

**  If  I'm  design' d  yon  lordling's  slaver- 
By  Nature's  law  design' d — 

Why  was  an  independent  wish 
E'er  planted  in  my  mind? 

If  not,   why  am  I  subject  to 
His  cruelty  or   scorn? 

Or  why  has  man  the  will  and  pow'r 
To  make  his  fellow  mourn? 

*'  Yet,  let  not  this  too  much,  my  son, 

Disturb  thy  youthful  breast : 
This  partial  view  of  human-kind 

Is  surely  not  the  last  ! 
The  poor,  oppressed,  honest  man 

Had  never,  sure,  been  bom, 
Had  there  not  been  some  recompense 

To  comfort  those  that  mourn  ! 

*'  O  Death  !    the  poor  man's  dearest  friend, 

The  kindest  and  the  best ! 
Welcome  the  hour  my  aged  limbs 

Are  laid  with  thee  at  rest ! 
The  great,   the  wealthy  fear  thy  blow, 

From  pomp  and  pleasure  torn  ; 
But,  oh  !   a  blest  relief  for  those 

That  weary-laden  mourn  !" 


[This  solemn  composition  has  "  chill  November  "in  its  intrt>- 
ductory  line,  but  the  author's  record  of  it  in  the  Common-place 
Book  is  dated  "August."  That  document  comes  to  a  sudden  close 
in  October,  1785,  so  that  we  are  forced  to  regard  this  as  a  com- 
position of  November,    1784.      He    there    styles    it   "A  Song,"  to 


Mr.  26.]  *  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  81 

the  tune  of  "Peggy  Bawn."  The  present  generation  knows  some- 
what of  a  modern  song  and  tune  called  "Molly  Bawn,"  but  few 
alive  ever  heard  of  the  air  thus  referred  to,  whose  querulous 
notes  lent  their  impulse  to  the  mind  of  Burns,  while  he  com- 
posed those  stanzas.  A  lovely  spot  called  "Haugh,"  a  mile  or 
more  below  Mauchline,  near  where  the  Lugar  flows  into  the  river 
Ayr,  is  pointed  out  as  the  locality  indicated  by  the  poet  in  his 
opening  verse.  In  one  of  his  letters  to  Mrs.  Dunlop,  Burns 
writes: — "I  had  an  old  grand-uncle  with  whom  my  mother  lived 
in  her  girlish  years ;  the  good  old  man  was  long  blind  ere  he 
died,  during  which  time  his  highest  enjoyment  was  to  sit  down 
and  cry,  while  my  mother  would  sing  the  simple  old  song,  '  The 
Life  and  Age  of  Man.'  "  In  Southey's  Doctor  we  find  him  thus 
referring  to  the  present  poem,  and  its  connection  with  the  above 
pathetic  incident  :—"  It  is  certain  that  this  old  song  was  in  Burns' 
mind  when  he  composed  to  the  same  cadence  those  well-known 
stanzas  of  which  the  burthen  is  'Man  was  made  to  mourn.' 
But  the  old  blind  man's  tears  were  tears  of  piety,  not  of  regret ; 
while  he  thus  listened  and  wept,  his  heart  was  not  so  much  in 
the  past  as  his  hopes  were  in  the  future.  Burns  must  have 
been  conscious  in  his  better  hours  (and  he  had  many  such)  that 
he  inherited  the  feeling — if  not  the  sober  piety — which  is  so 
touchingly  exemplified  in  this  family  anecdote."] 


THE  TWA  HERDS;  OR,  THE  HOIvY  TULYIE. 

pastors  quarrel 

AN  UNCO  MOiJRNFU'  TALE.  a  very 

(Stewart  and  Meiki,e's  Tracts,  1799.) 

"  Blockheads  with  reason,  wicked  wits  abhor, 
But  fool  with  fool  is  barbarous  civil  war." — Pope. 

O  a'  ye  pious  godly  flocks, 
Weel  fed  on  pastures  orthodox, 
Wlia  now  will  keep  you  frae  the  fox,  from 

Or  worrying  tykes?  dogs 

Or  wha  will  tent  the  waifs  an'  crocks^  ^^rd.    stragglers) 

A  1  I     ,^  7    /        r>  old  ewes  i 

About  the  dykes?  fences 


The  twa  best  herds  in  a'   the  wast^         west  (Ayrshire) 
That  e'er  go' e  gospel  horn  a  blast  gave 

I.  F 


82  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1784. 

These  five  an'   twenty  simmers  past — 

Oh,    dool  to   tell  I  sorrow 

Hae  had  a  bitter  black  out-cast  quarrel 

Atween  themsel.  between 

O,  Moodie,  man,  an'   wordy  Rnssell,  worthy 

How  could  you  raise  so  vile  a  bustle  ; 

Ye' 11  see  how  "new-light"  herds*  will  whistle, 

An'   think  it  fine  ! 
The  L — 's  cause  ne'er  gat  sic  a  twistle, 

Sin'    I   Jiae   mui' .  remember 

O,  sirs  !  whae'er  wad  hae  expeckit 

Your  duty  ye  wad  sae  negleckit,       ^ 
Ye  wha  were  ne'er  by  lairds  respcckit 

To  wear  the  plaid  ; 
But  by  the  brutes  themselves  eleckit, 

To  be  their  guide,  f 

What  flock  wi'  Moodie' s  flock  could  rank, 

Sae  hale  and  hearty  every  shank, 

Nae  poison' d  soor  Arminian  stank  sour      pool 

He  let  them  taste  ; 
Frae  Calvin's  well,  ay  clear  they  drank,— 

O,  sic  a  feast ! 

The  thummart,  willcat,  brock,  an'  tod| 

Wrcl  kend  his  voice  thro'  a'  the  wood,       weii  knew 

He  smell' d  their  ilka  hole  an'  road,         each  and  every 

Baith  out  and  in  ;  both 

An'  w^eel  he  lik'd  to  shed  their  bluid, 

An'  sell  their  skin. 


♦The  new-light  herds  "were  the  tnoderate,"  i.  e.  less  or  more  Arminian  or 
rationalistic  section  of  the  clergy  of  the  Scottish  church  ;  the  "  auld  light"  con- 
stituted  the  Evangelical  or  strongly  Calvinistic  party.  The  distinction  continues 
yet  under  the  names  Moderate  and  Evangelical. — ^J.  H. 

tWere  not  appointed  by  patrons,  but  chosen  by  the  flock.— J,  H. 

X  Polecat,  wildcat,  badger  and  fox.  Thummart  is  a  corruption  of  foumart  Ot 
foul -martin,  so  called  from  its  smell. — J.  H. 


*'T.  26.]  f  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  83 

» 

What  herd  like  Russell  tell'd  his  tale  ; 

His  voice  was  heard  thro'  muir  and  dale,* 

He  kenn'd  the  Iv — 's  sheep,  i/^a  tail,  every 

Owre  a'  the  height ; 
An'  saw  ^m  they  were  sick  or  hale,  whether 

At  the  first  sight. 

He  Jine  a  mangy  sheep  could  scrub,  weii 

Or  nobly  Jiing  the  gospel  club,  swing 

And  '^new-light"  herds  could  nicely  drub, 

Or  pay  their  skin  ; 
Could  shake  them  o'er  the  burning  dub^  hole 

Or  heave  them  in. 

Sic  twa — O  !  do  I  live  to  see' t.  Such  two 

Sic  famous  twa  should  disagree' t. 

And  names,  like  "villain,"   "hypocrite," 

Ilk   ithcr  gf  Cn^  Each  other  given 

While  "new-light"  herds,  wi'  laughin  spite. 

Say  neither' s  lieu  J         neither  Ues 

A'  ye  wha  tent  the  gospel  faiild^  guard     fold 

There's  Duncan f  deep,  an'   Peebles |  shaid\  shallow 
But  chiefly  thou,  apostle  Auld,  § 

We  trust  in  thee. 
That  thou  wilt  work  them,  hot  an'  cauld^  coid 

Till  they  agree. 

Consider,  sirs,  how  we're  beset ; 

There's  scarce  a  new  herd  that  we  get, 

But  comes  y;'«^  'mang  that  cursed  set  from 

I  iviniia  name  ;  win  not 

I  hope  frae  heav'n  to  see  them  yet 

In  fiery  flame. 

*  Russell's  voice  could  be  heard  a  mile  off. 
t  Rev.  Dr.  Duncan,  of  Duudonald. 
J  Rev.  Wm.  Peebles,  Newton -on -Ayr. 
2  Rev.  Wm.  Auld,  of  Mauchline. 


84  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  [1784. 

Dalrymple*  has  been  lang  owx  fae^  foe 

M'Gillf  has  wrought  us  7neikle  ivae^  much  woe 

An'  that  curs'd  rascal  ca^ d  M'Quhae,  |  named 

An'   baith  the  Shaws,  §  both 

That  aft  hae  made  us  black  an'   blae^     often       blue 

Wi'  vengefu'  paws. 

Auld  Wodrowll  lang  has  hatch' d  mischief; 
We  thought  ay  death  wad  bring  relief, 
But  he  has  gotten,  to  our  grief, 

Ane  to  succeed  him,  ** 
A  chield  wha'll  soundly  buff  our  beef,-  drub  us 

I  iueikle  dread  hiin.  much 

And  mony  a  ane  that  I  could  tell, 

Wha  fain  would  openly  rebel, 

Forby  turn-coats  amang  oursel,  besides 

There's  Smith  ft  for  ane;     one 
I  doubt  he's  but  a  grey  nick  quill^  soft  goose  quiu 

An'  WxdX  ye' II  Jin\        you  win  find 

O  !  a'  ye  flocks  o'er  a'  the  hills. 

By  mosses,  meadows,  moors,  an'  fells^  uplands 

Come,  join  your  counsel  and  your  skills 

To  cozve  the  lairds,  humble 

An'  get  the  brutes  the  power  themsels 

To  chuse  their  herds. 

Then  Orthodoxy  yet  may  prance, 

An'  Learning  in  a  woody  dance,"  g:ibbet-haitcr 


•  Rev.  Dr.  Dalrymple,  of  Ayr.    He  baptized  Bums. 

fRev   Dr.  M'Gill,  colleague  of  Dr.  Dalrj'mple. 

X  Minister  of  St.  Quivox. 

gDr.  Andrew  Shaw,  of  Craigie,  and  Dr.  David  Shaw,  of  Coylton. 

II  Dr.  Peter  Woodrow,  of  Tarbolton. 
**  Rev.  John  M'Math,  a  young  assistant  and  successor  to  Woodrow. 
I"!  Rev.   George   Smith,   of   Galston,   here   and   in    "The   Holy   Fair"  claimed  as 
friendly  to  the  "new-light"  party;  but  cried  down  in  "  The  Kirk's  Alarm." 


je^r.  26.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  85 

An'  that  y^// cur  ca'd  "common-sense,"*  keen 

That  bites  sae  sair^  so  sore 

Be  banish' d  o'er  the  sea  to  France  : 

Let  him  bark  there,  f 

Then  Shaw's  an'   D'rymple's  eloquence, 
M' Gill's  close  nervous  excellence, 
M'Quhae's  pathetic  manly  sense, 

An'  guid  M'Math, 
Wi'   Smith,   wha  thro'  the  heart  can  glance,!    ^^^ 

May  a'  pack  afi.  oflf 

[The  author,  in  alluding  to  this  poem  in  his  autobiography, 
gives  it  no  title  such  as  that  by  which  it  is  now  distinguished. 
He  calls  it  "a  burlesque  lamentation  on  a  quarrel  between  two 
reverend  Cahanists,"  and  tells  us  that  it  was  the  first  of  his 
poetic  offspring  that  saw  the  light.  He  does  not  mean  the 
"light  of  print,"  but  of  circulation  in  manuscript.  In  our  head- 
ing we  give  three  titles,  taken  respectively  from  various  printed 
copies  ;  for  we  are  not  aware  that  any  holograph  copy  exists 
except  the  one  in  the  British  Museum,  which  calls  it  "  The 
Holy   Tulyie." 

In  regard  to  its  date,  we  suspect  that  Chambers,  in  placing  it 
under  April,  1785,  has  no  authority  beyond  a  fancied  connection 
between  this  poem  aiid  the  epistle  to  Wm.  Simson,  of  May 
1785.  The  reader  has  been  already  prepared,  by  the  author's 
outburst  against  clerical  hypocrisy  in  the  Epistle  to  Rankine,  to 
find  him  writing  shortly  thereafter  in  the  same  vein.  lyockhart 
tells  us — as  from  personal  knowledge — that  Burns  personally  wit- 
nes.sed  in  open  court  the  unseemly  contention  between  the  "twa 
herds," — to  wit,  the  Rev.  John  Russell  of  Kilmarnock,  and  the 
Rev.  Alex.  Moodie,  of  Riccarton.  If  so,  the  ecclesiastical  court 
records  may  throw  light  upon  the  date.  Meanwhile,  we  assume 
that   the   affair  happened   prior   to  the   close  of  1784.] 


♦"Common-sense"  was,  and  is,  claimed  as  the  attribute  of  the  "new-light" 
or  rationalistic  party. 

t  The  poem  ends  here  in  the  MS. 

t  In  the  Tract,  1799,  this  line  reads, — "  Wha  through  the  heart  can  brawly 
glance,"  and  thus  the  compliment  to  Smith  is  dispensed  with,  and  turned  iu 
favor  of  M'Math. 


86  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  [1785. 


EPISTLE  TO  DAVIE,  A  BROTHER  POET. 

JANUARY. 

(Kii^MARNOCK  Ed.,  1786.) 

While  winds  frae  off  Ben-IyOmond  blaw,       from 
An'  bar  the  doors  wi'  drivin'  snaw, 

An'  hhig  tcs  owre  the  ingle,  ""overThefiTe"^} 

I  set  me  down  to  pass  the  time, 
An'  spin  a  verse  or  twa  o'  rhyme, 

In  hamely,   westlin  jingle  :  west  country 

While  frosty  winds  blaw  in  the  dr^t, 

Ben    to   the    chimin    lug,  into  chimney  corner 

I  grudge  a  wee  the  great-folk's  gift,  littie 

That  live  sae  bien  an'  snug  :  so  comfortably 

I  te7tt  less,  and  want  less  care 

Their  roomy  fire-side  ; 
But  hanker,  and  ca7iker,  envy  and  grudge 

To  see  their  cursed  pride. 

It's  hardly  in  a  body's  pow'r. 

To  keep,  at  times,  frae  being  sour. 

To  see  how  things  are  shar'd;  distributed 

.    -  ,      ,         .  good  fellows) 

How  best  a'  chiels  are  whyles  m  want,       sometimes) 
While  coofs  on  countless  thousands  blockheads 

rant,  rampage 

And  ken  na  how  to  ware''  t  ;   know  not        spend  it 
But  Davie,  lad,  n&^oi  fash  your  head,  trouble 

Tho'  we  hae  little  gear ;  wealth 

We're  fit  to  win  our  daily  bread. 

As  lang's  we're  hale  and  fier :        whole  and  souad 

*'''  Mair  spier  na,  nor  fear  na,"*     more  ask  not 

Auld  age  ne'er  mind  sl /eg ;  fig 


♦Ramsay.— ie.  B. 


^T.  27.]  ,  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  87 

The  last  o't,   the  warst  d't^  worst  of  it 

Is  only  but  to  beg.* 

To  lye  in  kilns  and  barns  at  e'en, 

When  banes  3X0:  craz'd,  and  bluid  \s  tliin,bones   biood 

Is,  doubtless,  great  distress  ! 
Yet  then  content  could  make  us  blest  ; 
Ev'n  then,  sometimes,  we'd  snatch  a  taste 

Of  truest  happiness. 
The  honest  heart  that's  free /ra^  «'  fromaii 

Intended  fraud  or  guile. 
However  Fortune  kick  the  ba\  bau 

Has  ay  some  cause  to  smile  ; 
An'  mind  still,  you'll  find  still, 

A  comfort  this  nae  sma' ;  smaii 

Nae  mair  then,  we'll  care  then, 
Nae  farther  we  can  fa' .        we  cannot  fau  lowei 

What  tho',  like  commoners  of  air, 
We  wander  out,  we  know  not  where, 

But  either  house  or  haP,  without 

Yet  nature's  charms,  the  hills  and  woods, 
The  sweeping  vales,  an'  foaming  floods. 

Are  free  'alike  to  all. 
In  days  when  daisies  deck  the  ground, 

And  blackbirds  whistle  clear. 
With  honest  joy  our  hearts  will  bound. 
To  see  the  coming  year  : 

On  braes  when  we  please  then,  heights 

We'll  sit  an'  sowth  a  tune;  whistle sofiiy 

Syne  rhyme  ////'/,  we'll  time  till't,    afterwards) 
An'  sing't  when  we  hae  done, 

•  In  Bums'  time  there  were  no  poor-laws  in  Scotland,  and  the  only  resource 
that  old  or  disabled  destitute  persons  had  was  beg-gary.  As  poor  people  in  gen- 
eral did  not  know  but  that  they  might  come  to  this  themselves,  bcRRars  were 
much  more  considerately  and  familiarly  treated  than  they  are  now.  They  were 
regarded  simply  as  beaten  in  the  struggle  with  the  world,  not  as  disgraced.-- 
J.  H. 


88  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 


I 


I 


It's  no  in  titles  nor  in  rank  ; 
It's  no  in  wealth  like  Lon'on  bank,  _ 

To  purchase  peace  and  rest  :  ^ 

It's  no  in  makin  mucklc^   mair ;  much  into  more 

It's  no  in  books,  it's  no  in  lear^  learning 

To  make  us  truly  blest  : 
If  happiness  hae  not  her  seat 

An'  centre  in  the  breast, 
We  may  be  wise,  or  rich,  or  great, 
But  never  can  be  blest  ; 
Nae  treasures  nor  pleasures 

Could  make  us  happy  lang  ; 
The  heart  ay's  the  part  ay 

That  makes  us  right  or  wra^g. 

Think  ye,   that  sic  as  you  and  I,  such 

Wha  drudge  an'  drive  thro'  wet  and  dry, 

Wi'  never  ceasing  toil  ; 
Think  ye,  are  we  less  blest  than  they, 
Wha  scarcely  te7it  us  in  their  way,  notice 

As  hardly  worth  their  while? 
Alas  !  how  oft  in  haughty  mood, 

God's  creatures  they  oppress  ! 
Or  else,  neglecting  a'   that's  good, 
They  riot  in  excess  ! 

Baith  careless  and  fearless 

Of  either  heaven  or  hell ; 
Esteeming,   and  deeming 

It  rt'  an  idle  tale  !  aii 

Then  let  us  cheerfu'   acquiesce. 
Nor  make  our  scanty  pleasures  less, 

By  pining  at  our  state : 
And,   even  should  misfortunes  come, 
I,  here  wha  sit,  hae  met  wi'  some —  have 

An's  thankfu'  for  them  yet,  and  am 


^T.  27.]  I  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  89 

They  £-te  the  wit  of  age  to  >outh  ;  give 

They    let    us    /CVV/    Ourscl ;  know  ourselves 

They  make  us  see  the  naked  truth — 

The  real  giiid  and  ill  :  good 

Tho'  losses  an'  crosses 

Be  lessons  right  severe, 
There's  wit  there,  ye'Jl  get  there, 
Ye' 11  find  nae  other  whi^re. 

But  tent  me^   Davie,  ace  o'  hearts  !         attend  to  me 
(To  say  aught  less  wad  wrang  the  cartes^      cards 

And  flatt'ry  I  detest) 
This  life  has  joys  for  you  and  I ; 
An'  joys  that  riches  ne'er  could  buy, 

An'  joys  the  very  best. 
There's  a'   the  pleasures  o'  the  heart, 

The  lover  an'   the  frien'  ; 
Ye  hae  your  Meg,  your  dearest  part, 
And  I  my  darling  Jean  ! 
It  wanns  me,   it  charms  me. 

To  mention  but  her  name  : 
It  heats  me,  it  beets  me,  enkindles 

An'  sets  me  a'  on  flame  ! 

O  all  ye  Pow'rs  who  rule  above  ! 
O  Thou  whose  very  self  art  love  ! 

Thou  know'st  my  words  sincere  ! 
The  life-blood  streaming  thro'  my  heart, 
Or  my  more  dear  immortal  part. 

Is  not  more  fondly  dear  ! 
When  heart-corroding  care  and  grief 

Deprive  my  soul  of  rest. 
Her  dear  idea  brings  relief. 
And  solace  to  my  breast. 
Thou  Being,   All-seeing, 

O  hear  my  fervent  pray'r  ; 
Still  take  her,  and  make  her 
Thy  most  peculiar  care  I 


90  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

All  hail  ;  ye  tender  feelings  dear ! 
The  smile  of  love,  the  friendly  tear, 

The  sympathetic  glow  ! 
Long  since,   this  world's  thorny  ways 
Had  number' d  out  my  weary  days, 

Had  it  not  been  for  you  ! 
Fate  still  has  blest  me  with  a  friend, 

In  ev'ry  care  and  ill  ; 
And  oft  a  more  endearing  band — 
A  tie  more  tender  still. 
It  lightens,   it  brightens 

The  tenebrific  scene. 
To  meet  with,  an'  greet  with 
My  Davie,  or  my  Jean  ! 

O  how  that  Name  inspires  my  style  ! 

The  words  come  skelpm^  rank  an'  file,  hurrying  on 

Amaist  before  I  ken !  almost        know 

The  ready  measure  rins  as  fine, 
As  Phoebus  an'  the  famous  Nine 

Were  glowrin  owre  my  pen.  staring 

My  spavet  Pegasus  will  limp,  spavined 

Till  ance  he's  fairly  het ;  *>°t 

11  1      ',11     1  -1   1  1         -r  1     •  •      I  hobble    halt) 

And  then  he'll  hilcJi^  2M^stilt.,  an'yz;«/>,  jump/ 

And    rin    an    linCO  Jit  ;  run  uncommon  fa<H 

But  least  then  the  beast  then 

Should  rue  this  hasty  ride, 
I'll  light  now,  and  dight  now  wipe  down 

His  sweaty,   wizen^  d  hide.  shrunken 

[The  date  of  this  poem  is  January,  1785,  and  it  is  headed  by- 
Bums  "An  Epistle  to  Davie,  a  Brother  Poet,  Lover,  Ploughman 
and  Fiddler."  This  Davie  was  David  Sillar,  one  year  younger 
than  Burns,  and  also  the  son  of  a  small  farmer  near  Tarboltou. 
He  removed  to  Irvine  before  the  poet  published  his  first  edition. 
Smitten  with  the  spirit  of  emulation,  he  also  printed  a  volume 
of  rhyming  ware,  which  appeared  in  1789,  and  Burns,  then  at 
Ellisland,  helped  him  to  his  utmost  in  procuring  subscribers. 
"  Davie "    did  rot  make  a  fortune  by  the  sale  of  his  book  ;  but 


je;t.  27.]       ^     *  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  91 

he  applied  himself  earnestly  to  business,  first  as  a  grocer,  and 
thereafter  as  a  schoolmaster.  Eventually  he  became  a  counciMor, 
and  latterly  a  magistrate,  of  Irvine,  and  survived  till  1S30,  much 
respected,  and  possessed  of   considerable  means. 

The  poem  exhibits  Burns  in  the  full  blossom  of  attachment  to 
his  Jean.  It  was  not  the  fate  of  Sillar  to  obtain  the  hand  of 
his  "Meg"  referred  to  in  the  Epistle:  she  was  Margaret  Orr, 
a  servant  at  Stair  House.] 


RTTY] 


HOIvY  WILLIE'S  PRTTYER. 

"And  send  the  godly  in  a  pet  to  pray." — Pope. 

(Stewart  and  Meiki,e's  Tracts,  1799.) 

Argument. — Holy  Willie  was  a  rather  oldish  bachelor  elder, 
in  the  parish  of  Mauchline,  and  much  and  justly  famed  for 
that  polemical  chattering  which  ends  in  tippling  orthodoxy, 
and  for  that  spiritualized  bawdry  which  refines  to  liquorish 
devotion.  In  a  sessional  process  with  a  gentleman  in  Mauch- 
line— a  Mr.  Gavin  Hamilton — Holy  Willie  and  his  priest. 
Father  Auld,  after  full  hearing  in  the  presbytery  of  Ayr, 
came  off  but  second  best,  owing  partly  to  the  oratorical 
powers  of  Mr.  Robert  Aiken,  Mr.  Hamilton's  counsel  ;  but 
chiefly  to  Mr.  Hamilton's  being  one  of  the  most  irreproacha- 
ble and  truly  respectable  characters  in  the  county.  On  losing 
his  process,  the  muse  overheard  him  [Hol}'^  Willie]  at  his 
devotions,  as   follows  : — 

O  Thou,  who  in  the  heaven.s  does  dwell, 
Who,  as  it  plea.ses  best  Thy.sel, 
Sends  ane  to  heaven  an'  ten  to  hell, 

A'  for  Thy  glory. 
And  no  for  ojiy  gnde  or  ill  any 

They've  done  afore  T/iccf'  '"  ^^y] 

•'  ■'  sight  i 


*  It  is  amusing  and  instructive  to  note  how  differently  the  respective  biogra- 
phers of  the  poet  have  expressed  their  sentiments  regarding  this  powerful  pro- 
duction. The  Rev.  Hamilton  Paul  and  the  Rev.  Hately  Waddcll  seem  to  invite 
the  friends  of  religion  to  bless  the  memory  of  the  poet  who  took  such  a  judi- 
cious method  of  "leading  the    liberal    mind  to  a  rational  view  of  the  nature  of 


92  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

I  bless  and  praise  Thy  matcliless  might, 
When  thousands  Thou  hast  left  in  night, 
That  I  am  here  afore  Thy  sight,  before 

For  gifts  an'  grace 
A  burning  and  a  shining  light 

To  a'  this  place. 

What  was  I.  or  my  generation, 

That  I  sli^»d  get  sic  exaltation,  such 

I  wha  deserv'e  most  just  damnation  who 

For  broken  laws, 
Five  thousand  years  ere  my  creation. 

Thro'  Adam's  cai^se. 

When  frac  my  mither's  womb  I  fell,  from 

Thou  might  hae  plunged  me  in  hell. 
To  gnash  my  gums,  to  weep  and  wail, 

In  burnin  lakes. 
Where  damned  devils  roar  and  yell. 

Chain' d  to  their  stakes. 


Yet  I  am  here  a  chosen  sample. 

To  show  Thy  grace  is  great  and  ample  ; 


prayer."  Dr.  Waddell  says  that  the  poem  "implies  no  irreverence  whatever  on 
the  writer's  part ;  but  on  the  contrary,  manifests  his  own  profoundest  detestation 
of,  and  contempt  for,  every  variety  of  imposture  in  the  name  of  religion."  His 
brother  divine  regards  the  poem  as  "  merely  a  metrical  version  of  every  prayer 
that  is  offered  up  by  those  who  call  themselves  of  the  pure  reformed  church  of 
Scotland."  Motherwell,  on  the  other  hand,  styles  it  "by  far  the  most  repre- 
hensible of  Burns'  pieces,  and  one  which  should  never  have  been  written." 
Cunningham  timidly  shelters  himself  behind  the  words  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  by 
calling  it  a  "too  daring  poem,"  and  "a  piece  of  satire  more  exquisitely  severe 
than  any  which  Burns  ever  afterwards  wrote."  Chambers  describes  it  as  "a 
satire  nominally  aimed  at  Holy  IVillie,  but  in  reality  a  burlesque  of  the  extreme 
doctrinal  views  of  the  party  to  which  that  hypocrite  belonged."  Many  will 
agree  with  Sir  Harris  Nicolas  in  saying  that  "  the  reverend  admirers  of  the 
poem  appear  to  have  compounded  with  their  consciences  for  being  pleased  with 
a  piece  showing  little  veneration  for  religion  itself,  because  it  ridicules  the  mis- 
taken zeal  of  an  opposite  sect." 

(However  regarded   by  Burns'  biographers,  this  is  one  of  the   best  known  and 
most  frequently  quoted  of  his  poems. — ^J.  H.) 


^T.  27.]  .  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  93 

I'm  here  a  pillar  d'  Thy  temple,  of 

Strong  as  a  rock, 
A  guide,  a  buckler,  and  examjDle, 

To  «'   thy  flock.  aii 

O  Iv — d,  Thou  kens  what  zeal  I  bear,         knowest 
When  drinkers  drink,  an'  swearers  swear, 
An'  singin'   there,  an'  dancin'  here, 

Wi'  great  and  sma'; 
For  I  am  keepit  by  Thy  feaj 

Free  frac  them  a''.  from 

But  yet,  O  Iv — d  !  confess  I  must, 

At  times  V  \x\.  fasJi' d  ^'-C  fleshly  lust:  troubled 

An'  sometimes,   too,   in  warldly  trust,  worldly 

Vile  self  gets  in  ; 
But  Thou  remembers  we  are  dust, 

Defil'd  wi'  sin. 

O  L — d  !  yestreen^  Thou  kens,  wi'  Meg — yester-even 

Thy  pardon  I  sincerely  beg, 

O  !  may't  ne'er  be  a  livin  plague 

To  my  dishonor. 
An'   I'll  ne'er  lift  a  lawless  leg 

Again  upon  her. 

Besides,   I  farther  viaun  allow,  must 

Wi'   Leezie's  lass,   three  times  I  trow — 

But  L — d,  that  Friday  I  was  foti^  fuu 

When  I  came  near  her  ; 
Or  else.  Thou  kens,   Thy  serv^ant  true 

Wad  never  steer  her.  disturb 

Maybe  Thou  lets  this  fleshly  thoni  perhaps 

Buffet  Thy  serv^ant  e'en  and  morn, 

Lest  he  oivrc  proud  and  high  shou'd  turn,       too 

That  he's  sae  gifted  : 
If  sae.  Thy  lian'  maun  e'en  be  borne, 

Until  Thou  lift  it. 


9-*  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

h — d,  bless  Thy  cliosen  in  this  place, 
For  here  Thou  hast  a  chosen  race  : 
But  G — d  confound  their  stubborn  face, 

An'  blast  their  name, 
Wha  bring  Thy  elders  to  disgrace 

An'  public  shame. 

L — d,  mind  Gaw^n  Hamilton's  deserts  :  Gavin 
He  drinks,  an'  swears,  an'  plays  at  carts^  cards 
Yet  has  sae  mony  takin  arts, 

Wi'  great  and  sma', 
Frae  G — d's  ain  priest  the  people's  hearts 

He  steals  awa.       ^ 

An'  when  we  chasten' d  him  therefor, 

.  '      outburst  of) 

Thou  kens  how  he  bred  sic  a  spiore^  ridicule  / 
As  set  the  warld  in  a  roar 

O'  laughing  at  us ; — 
Curse  Thou  his  basket  and  his  store, 

Kail  an'  potatoes. 

L — d,  hear  my  earnest  cr>^  and  pray'r, 

Against  that  Presby t'  r>'  o'  Ayr  ; 

Thy  strong  right  hand,   L — d,   make  it  bare 

Upo'   their  heads  ; 
1/ — d  visit  them,  an'   dinna  spare. 

For  their  misdeeds. 

O  L — d,  my  G — d  !  that  glib-tongu'd  Aiken,* 
My  vera  heart  and  flesh  are  quakin. 
To  think  how  we  stood  sweatin,  shakin. 
An'  p — 'd  wi'  dread, 

TTT1   '^  •  sneering  ) 

While  he,  wi'  hingin  lip  an'  snakin^      exuitingiy) 
Held  up  his  head. 


*An  eloquent  Ayr  lawyer,  who  argued  his  brother  practitioner's  (Hamilton's! 
case  before  the  Presbytery     See  Argument. — J.  H. 


^T.  27.]  .-  •  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  95 

L — d,   in  Thy  day  o'   vengeance  try  him, 
L — d,  visit  them  wha  did  employ  him, 
And  pass  not  in  Thy  mercy  by  them, 

Nor  hear  their  pray'r. 
But  for  Thy  people's  sake  destroy  them. 

An'  diniia  spare.  do  not 

But,  L — d,  remember  me  an'  mine 

Wi'  mercies  temporal  an'  divine, 

That  I  for  grace  an'  gear  may  shine,  wealth 

Excell'd  by  nane^  none 

And  a'  The  glory  shall  be  thine, 

Amen,  Amen ! 

[The  "Argument,"  or  introduction,  printed  at  the  head  of  this 
poem,  is  from  the  bard's  own  pen.  It  is  prefixed  to  the  copy  in- 
serted in  the  Glenriddell  volume  at  Liverpool.  This  enables  us 
with  some  certainty  to  decide  that  the  early  part  of  the  year  1785 
was  the  date  of  the  composition.  The  "sessional  process"  re- 
ferred to  really  commenced  in  August,  17S4,  just  before  the  annual 
celebration  of  the  communion  at  Mauchline,  when  the  name  of 
Gavin  Hamilton,  friend  and  landlord  of  the  poet,  was  included  in 
a  list  of  members  who  were  threatened  to  be  debarred  from  the 
communion  table  for  "habitual  neglect  of  church  ordinances." 
Hamilton,  believing  that  he  himself  was  the  party  chiefly  aimed 
at,  addressed  an  angry  letter  to  the  kirk  session,  telling  them 
that  they  had  no  just  grounds  of  offence  against  him,  and  that 
they  must  be  conscious  of  proceeding  purely  on  "private  pique 
and  ill-nature."  Hamilton,  finding  the  kirk  session  obstinate,  and 
inclined  to  treat  him  still  more  offensively,  appealed  to  the  pres- 
bytery of  Ayr  for  protection,  and  in  January,  1785,  he  obtained 
a  decree  of  that  court  ordering  the  erasure  of  the  session  min- 
utes complained  of.  It  was  at  this  stage — as  we  apprehend — 
that  the  muse  of  Burns  "overheard  Holy  Willie  at  his  devo- 
tions;" but  that  personage  did  not  content  himself  with 
"prayers"  merely,  for  Auld  and  his  confederates  refused  to  obey 
the  presbyterial  order,  and  made  appeal  to  the  Synod.  The  pro- 
cess there  did  not  close  till  July,  1785,  when  the  affair  was 
compromised  by  Hamilton's  acceptance  of  a  certificate  from  his 
kirk  session,  granting  him  to  be  "free  from  all  ground  of  church 
censure." 

In  the  complete  "Prayer"  there  are  seventeen  stanz&s,  the 
sixth  of  which   is   rarely   found  in   the  later  manuscripts;  perhaps 


96  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [1785. 

because  Bums  felt  it  to  be  rather  a  weak  verse,  and  excluded 
it  in  transcribing.  It  is  not  in  Stewart  and  Meikle's  Tracts, 
1799,  nor  in  Stewart's  volume,  1801  ;  but  it  appears  in  his  second 
edition,  1802.  It  is  amusing  to  notice  how  the  various  editors 
have  dealt  with  the  text.  The  Rev.  Hamilton  Paul  gives  it  pure 
and  uncastrated,  excluding  only  the  sixth  verse,  of  the  existence 
of  which  he  might  not  be  aware.  Cunningham  omits  verses 
sixth  and  eighth,  and  corrupts  the  fiftceiith.  Motherwell  gives 
all  the  seventeen  verses,  but  his  fifteenth  stanza  is  the  "Dum- 
fries version,"  of  which  we  shall  presently  speak.  Chambers 
omits  the  sixth,  eighth  and  ni^ith  verses,  besides  repeating  Cun- 
ningham's corruption  of  verse  fifteenth.  The  Glenriddell  MS. 
adopts  what  we  have  termed  the  "Dumfries  version"  of  the 
fifteenth  stanza.  The  poet's  friends  in  that  county  stumbled  at 
the  word  "snakin,"  which,  in  the  text,  has  a  meaning  the  very  op- 
posite of  the  English  word  sneaking.  To  please  tnem,  he  altered 
the  structure  and  effect  of  the  stanza,  so  that  the  word  objected  to 
has  the  ordinary  meaning  of  the  word  "sneaking,"  but  only  pro- 
nounced as  an  Irishman  might — ''snakin'.'"  The  following  is  the 
altered  stanza,  and  the  reader  may  decide  for  himself  whether  it 
or  the   Ayrshire  version   is  the   better  one  : — 


"  O  L— d,  my  G — d,  that  glib-tongued  Aiken  ! 
My  very  heart  and  flesh  are  quaking, 
To  think  how  I  sat  sweating,  shaking, 

And  p — ss'd  wi'  dread, 
While  Auld,  wi'  hinging  lip,  gaed  sneaking, 

And  hid  his  head  !  " 


The  motto  from  Pope  is  found  only  in  MS.  of  this  poem 
made  in  Dumfries.  The  same  observation  applies  to  the  motto 
prefixed  to  the    Twa  Herds.'\ 


EPITAPH  ON  HOLY  WILLIE. 

(Stewart,  iSoi.) 

Here  Holy  Willie's  sair  worn  clay  sore 

Taks  up  its  last  abode  ; 
His  saul  has  to'  en  some  other  way,   soui     taken 

I  fear,  the  left-hand  road. 


ex.  27.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  97 

Stop  !  there  he  is,  as  sure's  a  gim, 

Poor,  silly  body,  see  him  ; 
Nae  v/onder  he's  as  black's  the  grun^      ground 

Observe  wha's  standing  wi'  him. 

Your  brunstane  devilship,  I  see,  brimstone 

Has  got  him  there  before  ye  ; 

But  haud  your  nine-tail  cat  a  zvee^  a  Httie 

Till  ance  you've  heard  my  story.  once 

Your  pity  I  will  not  implore, 

For  pity  ye  have   nane  ; 
Justice,  alas  !  has  gp en  him  o'er,  given 

And  mercy's  day  is  gane.  past 


blockhead) 


But  hear  me.   Sir,  deil  as  ye  are, 
lyook  something  to  your  credit ; 

A  cooflike  him  zaad  stain  your  name,       would/ 
If  it  were  ken^  ye  did  it.  known 

[This  "Epitaph"  is  a  poor  performance,  compared  with  the 
main  poem ;  and  the  author  would  seem  to  have  been  sensible 
of  this  when  he  refrained  from  transcribing  it  into  the  Glen- 
riddell  volume  along  with  the  "  Prayer."  It  was  not  pubUshed 
till  two  years  after  the  latter  made  its  first  appearance,  and  we 
are  not  aware  that  it  now  exists  in  the  poet's  autograph.  The 
name  of  the  hero  of  these  biting  satires  was  William  Fisher,  a 
leading  elder  in  the  parish  church  of  Mauchline.  Its  kirk  ses- 
sion, in  1785,  consisted  of  three  active  members — Rev.  William 
Auld,  Mr.  John  Sillars,  and  "Holy  Willie."  In  cases  of  disci- 
pline, the  reverend  incumbent,  as  moderator,  first  expressed  his 
opinion,  and  foreshadowed  judgment :  William  Fisher  would  ob- 
sequiously second  the  minister  in  the  words,  "I  say  wi'  you, 
Mr.  Auld — what  say  you,  Mr.  Sillars?"  The  latter  might  either 
agree  or  dissent,  for  it  made  no  diilerence,  he  being  a  hopeless 
minority  in  a  court  like  that.  Such  is  the  account  of  "  Daddie 
Auld's"  session  given  by  Dr.  Waddell,  on  the  authority  of  local 
reminiscences  gleaned  by  him  in  the  district. 

Burns,  in  a  poem  produced  in  17S9,  refers  to  his  ancient  foe, 
William    I'isher,    in   these   words  : — 

"  Holy  will,  holy  Will,  there  was  wit  in  your  skuU, 
When  ye  pilfcr'd  the  alms  of  the  poor." 

L  G 


98  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1785. 

It  appears  that  the  sins  of  the  hoary  hypocrite  rapidly  found 
him  out.  The  date  of  his  death  we  have  not  ascertained,  but  his 
exit  was  quite  in  character  ;  for  he  died  in  a  ditch  by  the  road- 
side, into  which  he  had  fallen  on  his  way  home  from  a  debauch. 
Father  Auld  and  he  repose  in  Mauchline  kirkyard,  almost  side  by 
side,  the  inscription  on  the  minister's  tablet  recording  that  he 
died  on.    12th   December,    1791,   in   his  8ist  year.] 


DEATH  AND   DOCTOR  HORNBOOK, 

A  TRUE    STORY. 

(Edinburgh  Edition,   1787,) 

Some  books  are  lies  frae  end  to  end,  from 

And  some  great  lies  were  never  penn'd  : 

Ev'n  ministers  they  liae  been  kenn^d^  known 

In  holy  rapture, 
A  rousing  whid  at  times  to  vend,  startling  fib 

And  iiaiP  t  wi'  Scripture,     confirm  it 

But  this  that  I  am  gaiin  to  tell,  going 

Which  lately  on  a  night  befel. 
Is  just  as  true's  the  Deil's  in  hell 

Or  Dublin  city : 
That  e'er  he  nearer  comes  oiirsel  to  ourselves 

'S  a  nmckle  pity.  great 

The  clachan  yill  had  made  me  canty ^  viiiage-aie   happy 
I  was  na  fou^  but  just  had  plenty  ;  fuii 

I  stacker' d  whyles,  but  yet  took  te^tt  ay    staggered  occa-% 

L.        /.  ,  -I-      1  sionally     care) 

To  free  the  ditches  ;  avoid 

An'  hillocks,  stanes,  an'  bushes,   kemi'd  ay      knew 

Frae  ghaists  an'  witches.        ghosu 

The  rising  moon  began  to  glowre  stare  fixedly 

The  distant  Cumnock  hills  out-owre  :      over  the  top  oi 


S^T.  27.]      '  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  99 

To  count  her  horns,*  wi'  a'  my  pow'r, 

I  set  mysel  ; 
But  whether  she  had  three  or  four, 

I  cou'd  7ia  tell.  not 

I  was  come  round  about  the  hill, 

An'  todlin  down  on  Willie's  mill, f      walking tottenngiy 

Setting  my  staff  wi'  a'  my  skill, 

To    keep    me    sicker ;         steady  and  safe 

Tho'  leeward  whyles^  against  my  will,      now  and  then 

I    took   a    bicker.  made  a  lurch 

I  there  wi'  Something  did  forgather^  encounter 

That  pat  me  in  an  eerie  swither ;  dismal  hesitancy 

An'  awfu'  scythe,  out-owre  ae  shouther^         shoulder 

Clear-dangling,  hang  ; 
A  three-tae'd  leister  on  the  ither  saimon-spear 

Lay,  large  an'  lang. 

Its  stature  seem'd  lang  Scotch  ells  twa. 

The  queerest  shape  that  e'er  I  saw, 

For  fient  a  wame  it  had  ava ;  beiiy    ataii 

And  then  its  shanks. 
They  were  as  thin,  as  sharp  an'  sma' 

As  cheeks  o'   branks.  %    wooden  bridle 

'  Guid-een^ '  quo'  I ;   '  Friend  !  liae  ye  been  good-evening 

maWlJly  mowing 

'  When  ither  folk  are  busy  saivin  !  '  §  sowing 

*  Cumnock  hills  lie  southeast  from  Tarbolton  ;  and  hence,  it  is  argued  by  Dr. 
Waddell,  the  moon  could  not  be  seen  in  crescent  from  the  poet's  standpoint. 
The  learned  critic  has  forgot  the  "  clachan  yill." 

t  Willie's  Mill,  a  mill  near  Tarbolton,  on  the  river  Faile,  occupied  by  William 
Muir,  a  crony  of  Burns,  and  whose  name  appears  as  a  subscriber  to  the  Kdin- 
burgh  edition  of  his  poems. — J.  H. 

1  Waddell,  on  the  authority  of  a  local  informant,  ."^ays  that  Death,  as  well  as 
Hornbook,  had  a  local  antitype — Hugh  Kcid,  of  the  Lochlans,  "a  long  ghaist- 
like  body,  wi  howe  cliafls  and  sma'  shank-banes,  whase  deformities  were  weel 
seen  for  he  wure  short  knee-breeks,  thin  stockings  and  mucklf  shoon."  Hums 
"forgathered"  with  him  that  night  "  abune  "  Willie's  Mill,  and  kent  wha  it  waa 
fu'  brawly."— J.  H. 

2  This  reucoutre  happened  in  seed-time,  1785. — R.  B. 


100  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785 

It  seem'd  to  mak  a  kind  o'  stan^^  stand 

But  naething  spak  ; 

At  length,  says  I,  '  Friend  !  whare  ye  gaun  ?  going 
'  Will  ye  go  back  ? 

It  spak  right  howe^ — '  My  name  is  Death,  hoiio'si 
'But  be  na'y?<?y^.' — Quoth  I,  '  Guid  faith,  alarmed 
'Ye' re  may  be  come  to  stap  my  breath; 

'But  tent  me,  billie ;  attend  fneud 
'I  red  ye  weel,  tak  care  o'  skaith^       counsel        harm 

'See,  there's  2.  gully !        ciasp-knife 

'Gudeman,'  quo'  he,  'put  up  your  whittle^  knife 
'I'm  no  design' d  to  try  its  mettle  ; 

'  But    if  I    did,    I    wad    be    kittle  dangerously  apt 

'To  be  mislear' d ;  mischievous 

*  I  wad  na  mind  it,   no  that  spittle 

Out-owre  my  beard.'  *  over 

'Weel,  weel!'  says  I,    'a  bargain  be't  ; 

'  Come,  gies  your  hand,  an'  sae  we're  ^r^*?'// agreed/ 

'We'll  ease  our  shanks  an'  tak  a  seat — 

'  Come,  gies  your  news  ;  give  us 
'  This  while  ye  hae  been  mony  a  gate^      many  a  road 

'  At  mony  a  house. '  f 

'  Ay,  ay  ! '  quo'  he,  an'  shook  his  head, 

'  It's  e'en  a  lang,  lang  time  indeed 

'  Sin'   I  began  to  nick  the  thread,  cut 

'  An'  choke  the  breath  : 
'  Folk  7naiin  do  something  for  their  bread,         must 

'  An'  sae  maun  Death.  so 


•  Bums  here  commits  a  solecism  in  giving  the  skeleton  Death  a  beard,  if  we 
are  to  accept  his  words  in  their  literal  sense.  The  poet,  however,  really  makes 
use  of  a  common  Scotch  phrase  expressive  of  supreme  indifference  or  contempt, 
without  thinking  of  its  literal  meaning. — J.  H. 

t  An  epidemical  fever  was  then  raging  in  that  country. — R.  B. 


^T.  27.]                          POEMS   AND   SONGS.  101 

*  Sax  thousand  years  are  rmax-hmid  Hed       '  six 

*  Stn^  I  was  to  the  biitching  bred.,  ,      since    butchering 
'An'  mony  a  scheme  in  .yaxn'.s  been  laid 

'  To  stap  or  scar  me ;     stop  scare 
'Till  ane  Hornbook's*  ta'en  up  the  trade, 

'  And  faith  !  he'  11  waiir  me.  beat 


'Ye  ken  Jock  Hornbook  i'  the  Clachan — 

'Deil    rnak   his    kings-hood  in   a     put     seif-consequence 

SpleilchaJl  ! tobacco  pouch 

*  He's  grown  sae  weel  acquaint  wi'  Buchan  f 

'  And    ithcr   cJiapS^  other  fellows 

'  The  weans  hand  out  their  fingers  laughin,  '^^^o'j^''"  \ 
'An'  pouk  my  hips.  piuck 


'See,  here's  a  scythe,  an'  there's  a  dart, 
'They  hae  pierc'd  mony  a  gallant  heart  ; 
'  But  Doctor  Hornbook  wi'  his  art 
'An'  cursed  skill, 
*  Has  made  them  baith  no  worth  a  f — t, 

not  a  } 

'  D—n'd  haet  they'll  kill  !     whit/ 

"Twas  but  yestreen,  nae  farther  gane, 
'  I  threw  a  noble  throw  at  ane  ; 
'Wi'  less,   I'm  sure,   I've  hundreds  slain; 
'  But  deil-ma-care, 

^  \t  \\\S>\.  play  d  dirl  on    the    bane,      gave  a  tremulous  stroke 

-  '  But  did  nae  mair. 

'  Hornbook  was  by,  wi'  ready  art, 
'An'  had  sae  fortify' d  the  part, 


*This  gentleman,  Dr.  Honibook,  is  professionally  a  brother  of  the  sovereign 
order  of  the  ferula  ;  but,  by  intuition  and  inspiration,  is  at  once  an  apothecary, 
Burgeon,  and  physician.—^.  Tf. 

tBuchan's  Domestic  Medicine. — R.  B.  Dr.  Wm.  Buchan  died  in  1805.  His  book 
is  still  popular  in  Scotland. 


102  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785 

'''That  when  T.  looked  to  my  dart, 
......  '  It  was  sae  blunt, 

^  Ficrit  Ji.aet  o'f  wad-hae  pierced  the  heart   bu"ofu} 

'  Of  a    kail-ril7lt,  kale-stalk 


*I  drew  my  scythe  in  sic  a  fury, 

'  I  near-hand  cowpit  wi'  my  hurry,    overbalanced  myseii 

*  But  yet  the  bauld  Apothecary 

'  Withstood  the  shock  ; 
*I  might  as  weel  hae  try'd  a  quarry 

'  O'  hard  whin  rock. 

*Ev'n  them  he  cajina  get  attended,  cannot 

'Altho'   their  face  he  ne'er  had  kend  it,  known 

*Just  in  a  kail-blade,  an'  send  it, 

'  As  soon's  he  smells  '  t, 
'  Baitli  their  disease,  and  what  will  mend  it, 

'At  once  he  tells  't. 


'And  then  a'  doctor's  saws  an'   zvhittles^  instruments} 
'  Of  a'  dimensions,  shapes,  an'  mettles, 
'A'  kinds  o'  boxes,  mugs,  an'  bottles, 

'He's  sure  to  hae;  have 

'Their  lyatin  names  as  fast  he  rattles 

'  As  A  B  C. 


*  Calces  o'  fossils,  earths,  and  trees ; 
'  True  sal-marinum  o'  the  seas  ; 
'The  farina  of  beans  an'  pease, 

'  He  has't  in  plenty  ; 

*  Aqua-fontis,  what  you  please, 

'  He  can  content  ye. 

*  For  bye  some  new,  uncommon  weapons,  besides 

*  Urinus  spiritus  of  capons  ; 


Mr.  27.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  103 

'  Or  mite-horn  shavings,  filings,  scrapings, 

'Distilled  per  se  ; 
'  Sal-alkali  o'  midge-tail  clippings, 

'And  mony  7?iae.^  more 

*  IVaes  me  for  Johnie  Ged's*  Hole  now,*  woe  is 
Quoth  I,  '  if  that  thae  news  be  true  !  these 
'  His  braw  calf- ward  f  whare  gowaju  grew,      daisies 

'  Sae  white  and  bonie, 

*  Nae  doubt  they'll  rive  it  wV  the  pleiv  ;      plough  it  up 

'They'll  ruin  Johnie!' 

The  creature  grain' d  an  eldritch  laugh,    Unearthly  i 
And  says,    '  Ye  needna  yoke  the  pieugh.^  plough 

'Kirkyards  will  soon  be  till'd  eneugh, 

'  Tak  ye  nae  fear  : 
'They'll  a'  be  trench' d  wi  mony  a  shetigh,     trench 

'  In  twa-three  year. 

'Whare  I  kill'd  ane,  a  fair  strae  death,  J 

'  By  loss  o'  blood  or  want  of  breath, 

'This  night  I'm  free  to  tak  my  aith.,  oath 

'That  Hornbook's  skill 
'Has  clad  a  score  i'  their  last  claith^  cioth 

'  By  drap  an'  pill. 

'An  honest  ivabster  to  his  trade,  weaver 

*  Whase  wife's  twa  nieves  were  scarce  weel-bred,  fists 
Gat  tippetice-yforih.  to  mend  her  head,  twopence 

'When  it  was  sair ;  sore 

*  The  wife  slade  catinie  to  her  bed,  sUd  quietly 

'  But  ne'er  spak  mair.  more 


♦The  grave-digger.—^.  R.     Ged's  Hole,  the  grave,  the  stomach  of  the  insatiable 
pike.    In  Scotland  the  pike  is  called  the  ged. — J.  H. 
t  Churchyard,  so-called  from  being  used  as  an  enclosure  for  calves,  etc. — J.  IL 
I  Deati)  in  bed,  wJaich  was  often  of  straw. — J.  H. 


104                                  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785 

'  A  country  laird  had  ta'en  the  batts^  botts 

'  Or  some  curmurring  in  his  guts,  disturbance 
'  His  only  son  for  Hornbook  sets, 

'  An'  pays  him  well : 

'The    lad,   for    twa  guid  ^/ww^r-/*^/^,  two-year-old ewes 

'Was  laird  himsel.  land-owner 


*A  bonie  lass — ye  kend  her  name — 

'Some  ill-brewn  drink  had  hov^d^xox  wame ;  s^^iied) 

belly  / 

'  She  trusts  hersel,   to  hide  the  shame, 
'  In  Hornbook's  dare  ; 

'  Horn  sent  her  aff  to  her  lang  hami, 
'To  hide  it  there. 


'That's  just  a  swatch  o'  Hornbook's  way  ;      sample 
'  Thus  goes  he  on  from  day  to  day, 
'  Thus  does  he  poison,  kill,  an'  slay, 

'  An's  weel  paid  for't  ; 
'  Yet  stops  me  o'  my  lawfu'  prey, 

'Wi'  his  d— n'd  dirt: 


'  But,  hark  !  I'll  tell  you  of  a  plot, 
'Tho'  dinna  ye  be  speakin  o't  ; 
'  I'll  nail  the  self-conceited  sot, 

'  As  dead's  a  herrin  ; 
^  Niest  time  we  meet,   I'll  wad  a  groat,    next    wager 

'  He  gets  his  fairin  ! '  reward 

But  just  as  he  began  to  tell. 

The  auld  kirk-hammer  strak  the  bell 

Some  wee  short  hour  ay  out  the  twal^    beyond   twelve 

Which  rais'd  us  baith  .•:  both 

I  took  the  way  that  pleas' d  mysel. 

And  sae  did  Death. 


^T.  27.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  105 

[The  author  himself  has  fixed  the  date  of  this  poem,  which, 
like  Tam-o'-Shanter,  was  struck  off  almost  complete  at  one  heat ; 
for  Gilbert  has  told  us  that  his  brother  repeated  the  stanzas  to 
him  on  the  day  following  the  night  of  the  tiff  with  Wilson  at 
the  mason  lodge.  John  Wilson,  parish  schoolmaster  at  Tarbolton, 
had  also  a  small  grocery  shop  where  he  sold  common  drugs,  and 
gave  occasional  medical  advice  in  simple  cases,  and  thus  became 
a  person  of  some  importance  in  the  village.  According  to  Mr. 
Lockhart,  he  was  not  merely  compelled,  through  the  force  and 
widely-spread  popularity  of  this  attractive  satire,  to  close  his  shop, 
but  to  abandon  his  school-craft  also,  in  consequence  of  his  pupils, 
one  by  one,  deserting  him.  "  Hornbook  "  removed  to  Glasgow, 
and,  by  dint  of  his  talents  and  assiduity,  at  length  obtained  the 
respectable  situation  of  session-clerk  of  Gorbals  parish.  He  died 
January  13,  1839.  Many  a  time  in  his  latter  days  he  has  been 
heard,  "  over  a  bowl  of  punch,  to  bless  the  lucky  hour  when 
the  dominie  of  Tarbolton  provoked  the  castigation  of  Robert 
Burns." 

In  the  author's  earlier  editions  the  word  did,  in  verse  sixth, 
ungrammatically  reads  "does;"  and  line  fifth  of  the  opening  stanza 
reads  thus  : — 

"  Great  lies  and  nonsense  baith  to  vend."] 


EPISTLE  TO  J.  LAPRAIK, 

AN   OLD   SCOTTISH    BARD. — APRIL    I,    1 785. 
(KlI^MARNOCK    Ed.,     1786.) 

While  briers  an'  woodbines  budding  green, 

KvC  paitricks  SCraichin  loud  at  e'en,       partridges  screeching 

An'  morning  poiissie  whiddin  seen,  hare  scudding 

Inspire  my  muse. 
This  freedom,   in  an  unknown  frien', 

I  pray  excuse. 

On  Fasten-e'en*  we  had  a  rockm^    social  meeting  or  bee 
To  cd'   the  crack  and  weave  our  stockin ;  to  chat 

•  Shrovetide,  a  festival  that  used  to  be  religiously  observed  in  Scotland.— J.  H- 


106  POBMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

And  there  was  nmckle  fun  and  jokin,  much 

Ye  need  na  doubt ; 
At  length  we  had  a  hearty  yokm^  set-to 

At    ''sang   about.''  song  in  turns 

There  was  ae  sang,  amang  the  rest, 

Aboon  them  a'  it  pleas' d  me  best,  above 

That  some  kind  husband  had  addrest 

To  some  sweet  wife  ; 
It  thirCd  the  heart-strings  thro'  the  breast,  thniied 

A'  to  the  life. 

I've  scarce  heard  ought  describ'd  sae  weel, 
What  gen'rous,  manly  bosoms  feel  ; 
Thought  I,   ' '  can  this  be  Pope,  or  Steele, 

Or  Beattie's  wark?" 
They  tauld  me  '  twas  an  odd  kind  chiel  toW     feiiow 

About  Muirkirk.* 

It   pat    VCi^  fidgin-fain    to    hear't,  excitedly  eager 

An'  sae  about  him  there  I  spierH;  enquired 

Then  a'  that  kent  him  round  declar'd  knew 

He    had    inghie  ;  genius  (ingemum) 

That  nane  excell'd  it,    few  cam  near't, 
It  was  sae  fine  : 

That,  set  him  to  a  pint  of  ale, 

An'  either  douce  or  merry  tale,  quieUy  grave 

Or  rhymes  an'  sangs  he'd  made  himsel, 

Or  witty  catches — 
'Tween  Inverness  an'  Teviotdale, 

He  had  few  matches. 

Then  up  I  gat,  an'  swoor  an  aith^  oath 

The'  I  should  pawn  my  pleugh  an'  graith^  harness 

*  A  fittlf  town  amonjgr  the  MUsJ  in  the  southeast  part  of  Ayrshire.— J.  H. 


&r.  27.] 


POEMvS   AND   vSONGS. 


10< 


Or  die  a  cadger  poivnic' s  death,  hawker  pony's 

At   some    dyke-back^  back  of  a  fence 

A  pint  an'  gill  I'd  gie  them  baith, 

To  hear  your  crack.  chat 

But,  first  an'  foremost,   I  should  tell, 
Amaist  as  soon  as  I  could  spell, 
I  to  the  crambo-jingle  fell,  rhjTning 

Tho'  rude  an'  rough — 

Yet    crooning    to    a    body  S    Sel^       humming        persons  self 

Does  weel  etieiigh.  weii  enough 

I  am  nae  poet,  in  a  sense. 

But  just  a  rhymer  like  by  chance. 

An'  liae  to  learning  nae  pretence  ; 

Yet,  what  the  matter? 
Whene'er  my  muse  does  on  me  glance, 

I  jingle  at  her. 


Your  critic-folk  may  cock  their  nose, 
And  say,    "how  can  you  e'er  propose — 
You  wha  ken  hardly  verse  frae  prose — 

To  niak  a  sans:  ?  ' ' 
But,  by  your  leave,  my  learned  foes, 

Ye' re  maybe  wrang. 


knoT4 


What's  a'  your  jargon  o'  your  schools — 
Your  Latin  names  for  horns  an'  stools  ? 
If  honest  Nature  made  you  fools, 

What  sairs  your  grammars  ?  serves 
Ye'd  better  taen  up  spades  and  shools^  shovels 

Or  knappin-hanimcrs.    stonc-hammcrs 


A  set  o'  dull,   conceited  kas/ies 
Confuse  their  brains  in  colletre  classes  ! 


foolB 


108 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


[178S 


They  gang  in  stirks^  and  come  out  asses,  year-oidj 
Plain  truth  to  speak  ; 

An'  syiie  they  think  to  climb  Parnassus,  thereafter 
By  dint  o'  Greek  ! 


Gie  me  ae  spark  o'  nature's  fire, 

That's  a'  the  learning  I  desire  ; 

Then  tho'   I  drudge  thro'  diib  an'  mire 

At  pieugh  or  cart, 
My  muse,  tho'  hamely  in  attire, 

May  touch  the  heart. 


mud 
plough 


O  for  a  spunk  o'  Allan's*  glee, 
Or  Fergusson's,  the  baidd  aii'  slee^ 
Or  bright  Lapraik's,  my  friend  to  be 

If  I  can  hit  it  ! 
That  would  be  lear  eneugh  for  me, 

If  I  could  get  it. 


spark 
bold  and  sly 


learning 


Now,  sir,  if  ye  hae  friends  enow, 
Tho'  real  friends  I  b'lieve  are  few; 
Yet,  if  your  catalogue  bey^', 

r  se  no  insist  : 
But,  gif  yo.  want  ae  friend  that's  true, 

I'm  on  your  list. 


have 

full 

I  will  not 

if 


I  winna  blaw  about  mysel,  win  not  brag 

As  ill  I  like  my  faiits  to  tell  ;  faults 

But  friends,  an'  folk  that  wish  me  well, 

They  sometimes  roose  me ;  praise 
Tho'   I  tnaim  own,  as  mony  still  must 

As  far  abuse  me. 


*  Allan  Ramsay. 


jeX-  27.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  109 

There's  ae  wee  faut  they  whiles  lav  to  me,  °"^  '**"! 

T1-1  11  ^-ir-  tie  fault) 

I  like  the  lasses — Gude  forgie  me  ! 

For  mony  a  plack  they  wheedle  frae  me      coax  from} 

At  dance  or  fair  ; 
Maybe  some  ither  thing  they  gie  me,    other      grJve 

They  w^?^/  can  spare.  weii 

But  Mauchline  Race  *  or  Mauchline  Fair, 
I  should  be  proud  to  meet  you  there  : 
We^se  gie  ae  night's  discharge  to  care,    ^^eTnl} 
If  we  forgather  ;  meet 

An  hae  a  swap  o'  rhymin-ware  interchange 

Wi'    ane  anither.  one  another 

The  four-gill  chap,t  we'se  gar  him.  clatter,    make 
An'   kirsen  him  wi'  reekin  water  ;  christen 

Syjie  we'll  sit  down  an'  tak  our  whitter^  then     drink 

To  cheer  our  heart ; 
An'  faith,  we'se  be  acquainted  better 

Before  we  part. 

Awa  ye  selfish,   warly  race,  woridiy 

Wha  think  that  havins^  sense,  an'  grace,    manners 
Ev'n  love  an'   friendship  should  give  place 

To    Catch-thc-plackl      money-making 

I  dinna  like  to  see  your  face,  do  not 

Nor  hear  your  crack.  chatter 

But  ye  whom  social  pleasure  charms, 
Whose  hearts  the  tide  of  kindness  wanns, 
Who  hold  your  being  on  the  tenns, 

' '  Each  aid  the  others, ' ' 
Come  to  my  bowl,   come  to  my  arms, 

My  friends,  my  brothers  ! 


•The  race-course  at  Mauchline  was  on  the  high  road  near  the  poet's  farm. 
tThe    mutchkin,  or    pint,    the    largest    measure    for  whiskey  used  in  public- 
houses. — J.  H. 


110  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

But,  to  conclude  my  lang  epistle, 

As  my  auld  pen's  worn  to  the  gristle, 

Twa  lines  frae  you  wad  gar  me  fissle,* 

Who  am  most  fervent, 
While  I  can  either  sing  or  whistle, 

Your  friend  and  servant. 


[We  have  already  seen,  in  the  epistle  to  Davie,  how  indulgently 
Burns  regarded  the  rhyming  qualities  of  his  Ayrshire  compeers. 
The  song  referred  to  in  the  third  stanza  of  this  poem  com- 
mended itself  so  much  to  his  sympathies  that  he  took  this 
method  of  becoming  acquainted  with  its  supposed  author.  We 
say  supposed  author  ;  for  in  reality  it  was  not  Lapraik's  own,  but 
a  piece  he  had  found  in  an  old  magazine,  whi<?h,  by  altering  its 
structure  a  very  little,  and  putting  in  a  Scotch  expression  here 
and  there,  he  had  the  assurance  to  pass  off  as  his  own  compo- 
sition. Burns,  who  never  knew  or  suspected  the  plagiarism, 
afterwards  dressed  up  Lapraik's  version  and  had  it  printed  in 
Johnson's  Aluscinn,  where  it  stands,  No.  205,  set  to  an  air  bv 
Oswald.  Lockhart  praises  the  opening  verse,  but  remarks  that 
(this  song  excepted)  "it  is  not  easy  to  understand  Burns'  admira- 
tion of  Lapraik's  poetry."  The  reader  will  find  the  original  poem 
in   the    Weekly  Magazine,  October  14,  1773. 

John  Lapraik  was  nearly  sixty  years  old  when  Burns  sought 
acquaintance  with  him.  He  had  inherited,  through  a  line  of 
ancestors,  a  small  croft  near  Muirkirk  ;  but  happening  to  borrow 
money,  by  a  bond  thereon,  from  the  Ayr  Bank,  he  became  in- 
volved in  the  ruin  which  soon  overtook  that  unfortunate  concern. 
On  the  strength  of  Burns'  recorded  admiration,  the  "Old  Scottish 
Bard  "  ventured  to  have  his  poems  printed,  at  the  press  of  John 
Wilson,  Kilmarnock;    and   these   were   published   in    1788.] 

(Lapraik's  poems  had  little  success,  Bums  being  nearly  his  sole 
admirer.  Chambers  tells  us  that  Burns,  when  he  received  Lapraik's 
letter  in  reply  to  this  epistle,  was  sowing  ;  and,  so  eagerly  did  he 
peruse  it,  that  he  let  the  sheet  drop  and  spilled  the  seed,  and  it 
was  not  till  he  had  finished  reading  that  he  discovered  the  loss 
he  had  sustained. — J.  H.) 

*  Would  make  me  fidget  with  pleasure. 


-CT.  27.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  Ill 


SECOND  EPISTLE  TO  J.  LAPRAIK. 

APRIL   21,    1785. 
(KlI^MARNOCK    Ed.,    1786.) 

While  nczv-cd'd  kye  rowte  at  the  stake  newiy-cau-ed , 

.  .  cows  low  J 

An'  pownies  reek  m  pleiigh  or  braik^  smoker 

This  hour  on  e'enin's  edge  I  take,     '°^dedharrow| 

To  own  I'm  debtor 
To  honest-hearted,  anld  Lapraik, 

For  his  kind  letter. 

Forjesket  sair^  with  wear}^  legs,  jaded  sore 

Rattlin  the  corn  oiit-owre  the  rigs^  ndges 

Or  dealing  thro'  amang  the  naigs  nags 

Their  ten-hours'  bite, 
My  awkwart  muse  sair  pleads  and  begs 

I  would  na  write. 

The  tapetless,  ramfeezl'd  hizzie,* 
She's  saft  at  best  an'  something  lazy  : 
Quo'  she,    "ye  ken  we've  been  sae  busy 

This  month  an'  mair, 
That  trowth,  my  head  is  grown  right  dizzie, 

An'  something  sair." 

Her  dowff  excuses  pat  me  mad  ;  stupid       put 

"Conscience,"  says  I,  "ye  thowless yaA^X     pithless 
I'll  write,  an'   that  a  hearty  bland ^    large  broad-sheet 

This  vera  night  ; 
So  dinna  ye  affront  your  trade. 

But  rhyme  it  right, 

*The  silly,  tired-out  bussy. 


il2                                   POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1785. 

*'  Shall  baidd  Lapraik,   the  king  o'  hearts,  brave 

Tho'  mankind  were  a  pack  o'  cartes^  cards 

Roose  you  sae  weel  for  your  deserts,  praise 

In  terms  sae  friendly  ; 

Yet  ye' 11  neglect  to  shaw  your  parts  show 

An'  thank  him  kindly?" 


Sae  I  gat  paper  in  a  blink^  instantly 

An'  down  gaed  stumpie  in  the  ink :  went 

Quoth  I,    "before  I  sleep  a  wink, 

I  vow  I'll  close  it : 
An'  if  ye  winna  mak  it  chnk^  win  not      rhyme 

By  Jove,   I'll  prose  it!'' 


Sae  I've  begun  to  scrawl,  but  whether 

In  rhyme,  or  prose,  or  baith  thegither  ;  both 

Or  some  hotch-potch  that's  rightly  neither, 

Let  time  mak  proof; 
But  I  shall  scribble  down  some  blether      nonsense 

Just    clean    aff-loof.  off-hand 

My  worthy  friend,  ne'er  grudge  an'  carp, 

Tho'  fortune  use  you  hard  an'  sharp  ; 

Come,  kittle  up  your  moorland  harp  tickle 

Wi'  gleesome  touch  ! 
Ne'er  mind  how  Fortune  waft  an  warp  ; 

She's  but  a  b-tch. 


She's  ^/^«  me  mony  a /zW  2.rC  fleg^  ^""^"^  squeeze . 

Sin'   I  could  striddle  owre  a  rig  ;  straddle 
But,  by  the  L — d,  tho'  I  should  beg 

Wi'    lyart  POW^  grey  head 

I'll  laugh  an'  sing,  an'  shake  my  leg, 

As    lang's    /  dow  !  amaWe 


*:t.  27.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  113 

Now  comes  the  sax-an-twentietli  simmer 

I've  seen  the  bud  upo'   the  timmer, 

Still  persecuted  by  the  limjncr  jade 

Frae  year  to  year  ; 
But  yet,  despite  the    kittle  kim?ner^      skittish  wench 

I,  Rob,  am  here. 


Do  ye  envy  the  city  gent, 

Behint  a  kist  to  lie  an'   sklent ;      chest  prevaricate 

Or  purse-proud,  big  wi'   cent,  per  cent. 

An'     miickle    Wame^  large  belly 

In  some  bit  br-tigh  to  represent  burgh 

A    bailie'' S   tJame?  alderman-s 


Or  is't  the  panghty  feudal  thane ^  supercilious  peer 
Wi'  ruffl'd  sark  an'  glancing  cane,  shirt 

Wha  thinks  himsel  nae  sheep-shank  bane^     \;J^^  \ 

But  lordly  stalks  ;  account) 

While  caps  and  bonnets  aff  are  taen^  uken 

As  by  he  walks? 


* '  O  Thou  wha  gies  us  each  gnid  gift !  gives     good 
Gie  me  o'  wit  an'  sense  a  lift, 
Then  turn  me,  if  Thou  please  adrift. 

Thro'   Scotland  wide  ; 
Wi'  cits  nor  lairds  I  wadna  shifty      would  not  change 

In  a'  their  pride  !" 


Were  this  the  charter  of  our  state, 
"On  pain  o'   hell  be  rich  an'  great," 
Damnation  then  would  be  our  fate, 

P>eyond  reniead  ; 
But,   thanks  to  heaven,   that's  no  the  gate      way 
Wc  learn  our  creed. 
I.  H 


114  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  [1785 

For  thus  the  royal  mandate  ran, 
When  first  the  human  race  began  ; 
' '  The  social,  friendly,  honest  man, 

Whate'er  he  be — 
'Tis  he  fulfils  great  Nature's  plan, 

And  none  but  he.'* 

O  mandate  glorious  and  divine  ! 
The  followers  o'  the  ragged  nine  * — 
Poor,  thoughtless  devils — yet  may  shine 

In  glorious  light ; 
While  sordid  sons  o'  Mammon's,  line 

Are  dark  as  night ! 

Tho'  here  they  scrape,  an'  squeeze,  an'  growl, 
Their  worthless  nievefu'  of  a  soul  handful 

May  in  some  future  carcase  howl. 

The  forest's  fright; 
Or  in  some  day-detesting  owl 

May  shun  the  light 

Then  may  Lapraik  and  Bums  arise, 
To  reach  their  native,  kindred  skies. 
And  sing  their  pleasures,  hopes  an'  joys. 

In  some  mild  sphere  ; 
Still  closer  knit  in  friendship's  ties. 

Bach  passing  year  ! 

[Allan  Cunningham  says,  respecting  this  poem,  "I  have  heard 
one  of  our  greatest  English  poets  (Wordsworth)  recite  with  com- 
mendation most  of  the  stanzas,  pointing  out  their  all  but  inim- 
itable ease  and  happiness  of  thought  and  language.  He  re- 
marked, however,  that  Burns  was  either  fond  of  out-of-the-way 
sort  of  words,  or  that  he  made  them  occasionally  in  his  fits  of 
feeling  and  fancy.     The  phrase,    '  tapetless,    ramfeezled  hizzie, '   in 


♦Motherwell,  without  a  word  of  comment,  altered  this  reading  to  "ragged  fol- 
lowers o'  the  nine,"  which  certainly  seems  a  more  consistent  one.  The  change 
is  adopted  by  GilfiUan. 


^T.    27.] 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


115 


particular,  he  suspected  to  be  new  to  the  Scotch  dialect ;  but  I 
quoted  to  him  the  following  passage  from  a  letter  of  William 
Cowper,  dated  August,  1787: — 'Poor  Burns  loses  much  of  his  de- 
served praise  in  this  country  through  our  ignorance  of  his 
language.  I  despair  of  meeting  with  any  Englishman  who  will 
take  the  pains  that  I  have  taken  to  understand  him.  His  candle 
is  light,  but  shut  up  in  a  dark  lantern.  I  lent  him  to  a  very  sen- 
sible neighbor  of  mine  ;  but  the  uncouth  dialect  spoiled  all ;  and, 
before  he  had  read  him  through,   he  was   quite   ranifeezled.'  "] 


EPISTLE    TO    WILLIAM    SIMSON, 

SCHOOLMASTER,  OCHILTREE. — MAY,   1 785. 
(Kilmarnock  Ed.,  17S6.) 
I  gat  your  letter,   zvinsomc  Willie  ;        pot 


Wi'  grate fii'  heart  I  thank  you  brawlie ; 
Tho'   I  maun  say't,   I  ivad  be  silly,       must 

And  unco  vain. 
Should  I  believe,  my  coaxin  billie^ 
Your  flatterin  strain. 


winning 

heartily 

would 

very 

brother 


But  I'se  believe  ye  kindly  meant  it : 

I  snd  be  laith  to  think  ye  hinted  should       loath 

Ironic  satire, '  sidclins  sklented  glanced  sideways 

On  my  poor  musie  ; 
Tho'  in  sic  phraisin  terms  ye've  penn'd  it,  flattering 

I  scarce  excuse  ye. 

My  senses  wad  be  in  a  crccl^^  whirl 

Should  I  but  dare  a  hope  to  spcel^  ciimb 
Wi'   Allan,  t  or  wi'   Gilbertfield,! 

The  braes  o'  fame  ;  heights 


♦I  should  have  lost  my  head.  In  Ayrshire,  when  a  person  is  unduly  excited 
er  confused  about  anything,  his  senses  arc  said  to  he  "in  a  creel." 

+  Allan  Kamsay,  a  celebrated  Scotch  poet  of  the  bcginiiiiig  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  was  a  barber  in  luliiiburgh.  His  best  known  piece  is  a  drama  eulillcd, 
"The  Gentle  Shepherd." 

t  William  Hamilton,  of  C.ilbertfieUl,  a  Scotch  poet  and  coiileiiiporary  of  Allan 
Ramsay. 


116  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

Or  Fergusson,*  the  writer-chiel, 

A  deathless  name. 


(O  Fergusson !  thy  glorious  parts 
111  suited  law's  dry,  musty  arts  ! 
My  curse  upon  your  ivhunstane  hearts,        whinstone 

Ye  E'' iibriigh  gentry  !    Edinburgh 
The  tythe  d'  what  ye  waste  at  cartes         of       cards 

Wad  stow'  d  his  pantry !)  stored 

Yet  when  a  tale  comes  i'  my  head; 

Or  lasses  gie  my  heart  a  screed —      ^        grive  rent 

As  zvhilcs  they're  like  to  be  my  dcad^   sometimes  death 

(O  sad  disease  !) 

I  kittle  up  my  rustic  reed  ;  tickle 

It  gies  me  ease.  gives 

Auld  Coila,  t  now  may  fidge  fiC  fain^    fidget  with  pride 
She's  gotten  poets  o'  her  ain;  own 

Chiels  wha  their  chanters  winna  hain.     feiiows  bag-) 

pipes   spare-* 

But  tune  their  lays, 
Till  echoes  a'  resound  again 

Her  weel-suug  praise. 


Nae  poet  thought  her  worth  his  while, 

To  set  her  name  in  measur'd  style  ; 

She  lay  like  some  iinkciiii' d-of '\^^  unknown 

Beside  New  Holland, 
Or  wliare  wild-meeting  oceans  boil 

Besouth  Macjellan. 


♦Robert  Fergusson,  bom  1751,  educated  at  University  of  St.  Andrews,  and  em- 
ployed in  the  office  of  the  Commissary  Clerk,  Edinburgh,  published  in  1773  a 
volume  of  poems  characterized  by  humor,  fancy  and  purity  of  language.  Bums 
erected  a  memorial  stone  over  his  grave  in  Edinburgh. — J.  H. 

t  Kyle.     See  note  to   The  Twa  Dogs,  p.    203. 


.5;T.  27.]  POEMS   AND   SONGvS.  117 

Ramsay  an'  famous  Fergiisson 

Gied  Forth  an'  Tay  a  lift  aboon ;  gave       above 

Yarrow  an'  Tweed,   to  monie  a  tune,  many 

Owre  Scotland  rings  ;  over 

While  Irwin,   Lugar,   Ayr,  an'   Doon* 

Naebody  sings. 

Th'  missus,   Tiber,  Thames,  an'  Seine, 

Glide  sweet  in  monie  a  tunefu'  line  : 

But,  Willie,  set  your  fit  to  mine,  f  foot 

An'   cock  your  crest ;  erect 

We'll  gar  our  streams  an'  bumies  shine  make 

Up  ivi'  the  best  !  with 

We'll  sing  auld  Coila's  plains  an'  fclls^  uplands 

Her  moors  red-brown  wi'  heather  bells. 

Her  banks  an'  braes^  her  dens  and  dells,  heights    hoiiows 

Whare  glorious  Wallace 
Aft  bure  the  gree^  as  story  tells,  bore  the  pahn 

Frae  Siithron  billies,     southern) 

competitors-* 

At  Wallace'  name,   what  Scottish  blood 
But  boils  up  in  a  spring-tide  flood  ! 
Oft  have  our   fearless  fathers  strode 

By  Wallace'  side, 
Still  pressing  onward,  red-wat-shod,  % 

Or  glorious  died  ! 

O  sweet  are  Coila's  Jiaughs  an'  woods,  hoims 

When  liyitwhitcs  chant  amang  the  buds,  Hnnets 

And  jinkin  hares,   in  amorous  whids^  §   piayfui  capers 
Their  loves  enjoy  ; 

wood-pigeon) 

While  thro'   the  braes  the  cushat  croods  coosi 

With  wailfiC  cry  !  waiiiug 


*The  four  principal  streams  of  Ayrshire,  all  iu,  or  bordering,  Kyle. — J.  H. 

t  Unite  with  me. — J.  H. 

\  Shoes  wet  with  blood. 

2  Admirably  descriptive  of  the  amorous  capers  of  March  hares. — J.  H. 


118  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [itSs 

Ev'n  winter  bleak  has  charms  for  me, 
When  winds  rave  thro'  the  naked  tree  ; 
Or  frosts  on  hills  of  Ochiltree  * 

Are  hoary  gray  ; 
Or  blinding  drifts  wild-furious  Jiee^  fly 

Dark'ning  the  day ! 

O  Nature  !  a'  thy  shews  an'  forms 

To  feeling,  pensive  hearts  hae  charms !  have 

Whether  the  summer  kindly  warms, 

Wi'  life  an'  light  ; 
Or  winter  howls,  in  gusty  storms, 

The  lang,  dark  night ! 

The  muse,  nae  poet  ever  fand  her,  found 

Till  by  himsel  he  learn' d  to  wander,  aiiaione 

Adown  some  trottin  burn's  meander. 

An''  710  think  lang :  not  find  it  duii 
O  sweet  to  stray,  an'  pensive  ponder 

A  heart-felt  sang  ! 

The  warly  race  may  drudge  an'  drive,  worldly 

Hog-shouther,  jundie,t  stretch,  an'  strive  ; 

Let  me  fair  Nature's  face  dcscrive^  describe 

And  I,  wi'  pleasure. 
Shall  let  the  busy,  grumbling  hive  j^^^ 

Bum  owre  their  treasure.  likeV 

a  bee  J 

Fareweel,   "my  rhyme-composing"  brither  ! 
We've  been  owre  lang  tinkcnii' d  to  ither  :     unknown 
Now  let  us  lay  our  heads  thegither. 

In  love  fraternal  : 
May  envy  wallop  in  a  tether^  struggle      haitet 

Black  fiend,  infernal  ! 


*  A  village  on  the  Lugar  some  ten  miles  east  of  Ayr. — J.  H. 
t  Jostle  with  shoulder  and  elbow. 


ier.  27.]  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  119 

While  Higlilandmen  hate  tolls  an'  taxes  ; 

While  moorlan  herds  like  guid,   fat  shepherds 

braxieS  ;  *  dead  sheep 

While  terra  firma,  on  her  axis, 

Diurnal  turns  ; 
Count  on  a  friend,  in  faith  an'  practice, 

In  Robert  Bums.t 

POSTSCRIPT. 

My  memory's  no  worth  2.  preen;  pin 

I  had  ajnaist  forgotten  clean,  almost 
Ye  bade  me  write  you  what  they  mean 

By  this  'new-light, 'I 

'Bout  which  our  herds  sae  aft  hae   been  pastors 

Maist  like  to  fight.  almost 

In  days  when  mankind  were  but  callans  boys 

At  grammar,  logic,  an'  sic  talents, 

They  took  nae  pains  their  speech  to  balance, 

Or  rules  to  gie ;  give 

But    spak  their    thoughts    in    plain, 

braid    Lallans^  Lowland  scotch 

Like  you  or  me. 

In  thae  auld  times,  they  thought  the  moon,     these 
Just  like  a  sark^  or  pair  o'  shoon^  shirt     shoes 


*  The  sheep  that  die  on  the  hills  are  the  perquisite  of  the  shepherd.— J.  H. 

t  This  is  perhaps  the  solitary  instance  of  the  poet  writing  his  name  with  one 
syllable  prior  to  April  14,  1786.  The  closing-  stanza  of  the  second  epistle  to 
l,apraik  shows  the  short  spelling,  hut  that  verse  was  so  altered  after  the  date 
referred  to.     The  original  MS.  of  the  present  poem  has  not  been  found. 

\  New-Light  was  the  term  applied  to  the  approximately  rationalistic  views  held 
by  a  section  of  the  Scottish  church.  The  work  of  Dr.  John  Taylor,  of  Norwich, 
entitled  "  The  Scripture  Doctrine  of  Original  Sin,"  had  been  extensively  read  in 
Scotland  by  both  clergy  and  laity,  and  had  given  rise  to  a  pretty  definite  form 
of  rationalism.  Kven  the  poet's  father  was  inclined  to  soften  the  rigid  Calvinism 
of  the  orthodox  or  "  Auld-Ught "  party.  Burns  himself  was  in  full  sympathy 
with  the  New  Light  section. — J.  H. 


120  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [1785. 

Wore  by  degrees,   till  her  last  roon  seivage 

Gaed  past  their  viewin  ;    went 

An'  shortly  after  she  was  done 

They  gat  a  new  ane.   got     one 

This  past  for  certain,  undisputed  ; 

It  nc"  cr  cam  z'   their  heads  to  doubt  it,        never    in 

Till  chicls  gat  up  an'   wad  confute  it,  feiiows      would 

An'  ca''  d  it  wrang  ;  called 

An'  muckle  din  there  was  about  it,  much  noise 

Baith  loud  an  'lang.  both 

Some  herds,  weel  learn' d  upo'  the  beuk^  book 

Wad  threap  an  Id  folk  the  thing  misteuk  ;  «>aintainoid. 

TA         ,  111  /  mistook) 

l^or    twas  the  auld  moon  turn  d  a  iieuk  corner 

An'  out  o'  sight, 

An'     backlmS-Ccmiin^     to    the    Icuk^  coming  backward        view 

She  grew  mair  bright.        more 

This  was  denied,   it  was  affirm' d  ; 

The  herds  and  hissels  were  alann'd  ;  pastors  and  flocks 

The  rev' rend  gray-beards  rav'd  an'  storm' d, 

That  beardless  laddies  boys 

Should  think  they  better  were  inform'd, 

Than  their  aiild  daddies,  old  dads 

Frae  less  to  mair,  it  gaed  to  sticks ;  from  went  cudgels 
Frae  words  an'  aiths,  to  clours  an'  nicks;  "^^''^    bruises^ 

.         .  cuts/ 

An'   monie  a  fallow  gat  his  licks,  many       got 

Wi'   hearty  rrZ^W// knock  on  the  head 

An'  some,   to  learn  them  for  their  tricks. 

Were  hang'd  an'  brunt,     bumed 

This  game  was  play'd  in  mony  lands,         ,^  osties) 
An'  ' '  auld-light ' '  *  caddies\  bure  sic  hands,  bore  such  J 

•See  note  New  Light  on  preceding  page. 

f  Caddies  were  properly  men  who  ran  errands,   etc.,   in    the  streets  of  Edin- 
burgh ;  hence,  the  word  signifies  one  charged  with  a  message,  an  apostle. — J.  H, 


^T.  27.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  12^ 

That  faith,   the  younorsters  took  the  sa7ids^''^^''^^^\ 

'  .  .      ,  seashore    j 

Wi'   nimble  sha7iks ;  legs 

Till  lairds  forbad,   by  strict  commands,        authorities 

Sic  bliiidy  pranks.  *     bloody  sports 

But  ' '  new-light ' '  herds  gat  sic  a  cowe^        humbling 
Folk  thoug^htthem  min'd  stick-an-stowe  •f-f^^''^^,,  \ 

'='  _  '  blade  (;o/a//)'Ji 

Till  now,  amaist  on  ev'ry  knowe  knou  {puipu) 

Ye' 11  find  ane  plac'd  ; 

An'  some,  their  ' '  new-light ' '  fair  avow, 
Just  quite  barefac'd. 

Nae  doubt  the  ' '  auld-light ' '  flocks  are  bleatin  ; 
Their  zealous  herds  are  vex'd  and  sweatin  ; 
Mysel,   I've  even  seen  them  greetifi  weeping 

Wi'  girnin  spite,  grinning 

To  hear  the  moon  sae  sadly  lied  on 

By  word  an'  write. 

But  shortly  they  will  cowc  the  hints  /    humble      rascals 
Some  '' auld-light"  herds  in  Jicebor  /^?/«^""sh'^°""&| 

•'^^         _  parishes      > 

Are  mind't,  in  things  they  ca'  balloons, 
To  tak  a  flight  ; 

An'  stay  ae  month  amang  the  moons  one 

An'  see  them  right. 

Guid  observation  they  will  gie  them  ;      good       give 
An'  when  the  auld  moon's  gatui  to  led'e       ^°3"f } 

them. 
The  hindmost  shaird,  they'll  fetch  it  wi'  them,    shred 
Just  i'   their  pouch  ;  pocket 

An'  when  the  "new-light"  billies  see  them,   brethren 
I  think  they'll  crouch  ! 


♦This  stanza  tells  how  the  orthodox  have  been  in  the  habit  of  persecuting 
heretics,  till  the  latter  fled  over  the  sea,  and  till  the  rulers  of  the  State  forbade 
such  bloody  pranks. — J.  H. 


122  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

Sae^  ye  observe  that  a'   this  clatter        so       idle  uik 
Is  naething  but  a  "moonshine  matter;" 
But  tho'  dull  prose-folk  Latin  splatter 

In    logic    tlllyie^  contention 

I  hope  we  bardies  ken  some  better  know 

Than  mind  sic  brulyie.       broii 

[At  the  date  of  this  epistle,  William  Simson  was  parish 
schoolmaster  at  the  small  village  of  Ochiltree,  situated  on  the 
left  bank  of  the  river  Lugar,  at  a  distance  of  five  miles  south 
from  the  poet's  farm.  He  appears  to  have  introduced  himself  to 
Burns  by  sending  him  a  complimentary  letter,^  after  having  seen 
some  of  his  poems  in  manuscript,  particularly  the  "Holy  Tul- 
yie,"  to  which  Burns'  postscript  specially  applies.  In  1788,  Sim- 
son  was  appointed  parish  teacher  in  the  town  of  Cumnock,  four 
miles  farther  up  the  Lugar,  where  he  continued  till  his  death,  in 
1815.  It  does  not  appear  from  the  poet's  correspondence,  or  other- 
wise, that  the  acquaintanceship  betwixt  Burns  and  Simson,  thus  so 
auspiciously  begun  in  1785,  was  continued  in  after-life.  He  was 
succeeded  as  teacher  at  Ochiltree  in  17S8  by  a  brother,  Patrick 
Simson,  who  had  been  formerly  parish  schoolmaster  at  Straiton,  in 
Carrick.  A  volume  of  rhyming-ware,  left  by  William  Simson, 
passed  at  his  death  into  his  brother's  possession,  and,  judging  from 
what  has  been  published  of  its  contents,  he  seems  to  have  better 
merixed  the  distinction— a  "rhyme-composing  brother"  of  Burns — • 
than  either  Sillar  or  Lapraik.  He  had  the  good  sense  not  to 
rush  into  print  like  them,  on  the  mere  strength  of  the  kindly  com- 
pliments paid  to  them  by  the  Ayrshire  Bard  in  his  published 
epistles. 

After  William  Simson's  death,  his  brother  Patrick  was  often 
visited  at  Ochiltree  by  wandering  pilgrims,  for  the  sake  of  the 
interest  conferred  by  this  admired  epistle.  Allan  Cunningham, 
confounding  the  one  brother  with  the  other,  makes  reference  to 
William  Simson  as  still  surviving  in  1834.  Through  the  kind- 
ness of  the  Rev.  D.  Hogg,  Kirkmahoe,  we  have  been  shewn 
"Winsome  Willie's"  signature,  which  is  our  authority  for  drop* 
ping  the  letter  p  from  his  surname.] 


^T.  27.]  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  123 

ONE  NIGHT  AS  I  DID  WANDER. 

A   FRAGMENT. — MAY,    1 785. 
(Cromek,  1S08.) 

One  night  as  I  did  wander, 

When  corn  begins  to  shoot,  oats 

I  sat  me  down  to  ponder, 

Upon  an  auld  tree-root  :  old 

Auld  Ayr  ran  by  before  me. 

And    bicker'' d   to    the    seas  ;  careered  cheerily 

A  cushat  croodcd  o'er  me,       wood-pigeon     cooed 
That  echoed  through  the  braes. 

[This  fragment  seems  to  have  been  intended  as  the  opening 
of  a  poem  similar  in  style  to  "Man  was  made  to  mourn."  It 
has  a  descriptive  ring  about  it,  like  the  first  verse  of  the  "Holy 
Fair;"  and  the  scenery  indicated  is  not  unlike  that  of  Balloch- 
myle  or  Barskimming,  the  two  nearest  points  where  the  poet 
could  reach  the  river  Ayr  from  Mauchline.  The  fragment  first 
appeared  in  company  with  another  little  unfinished  piece,  in 
which  the  poet  contemplates  crossing  the  ocean,  and  being 
severed  from   his    "Jean."*] 

FRAGMENT  OF  SONG— "MY  JEAN  !" 

(Johnson's  Museum,  1788.) 

Tho'  cruel  fate  should  bid  us  part, 
Far  as  the  pole  and  line, 

*This  and  the  three  immediately  following-  pieces  are  in  the  very  peculiar 
position,  that,  while  they  are  inserted  in  the  poet's  Glenriddell  abridgement  of 
his  first  Common-place  Book,  between  the  dates  September,  1784,  and  June,  17S5, 
they  do  not  appear  in  the  Common-place  Hook  itself,  now  preserved  at  Greenock. 
On  examining  carefully  the  latter  manuscript,  cue  is  forced  to  the  conclusion 
that  these  four  pieces  never  at  any  time  formed  a  portion  of  that  book.  Robert 
Chambers,  who  never  saw  the  Greenock  MS.  referred  to,  was  stumbled  at  so 
early  a  date  as  May,,J7S5,  "being  attached  to  these  pieces,  especially  to  the  song 
about  'My  Jean,'"  which,  from  internal  evidence,  would  seem  to  belong  to  the 
first  half  of  1786.  However,  as  Burns  himself  inserted  these  as  forming  n  por- 
tion of  his  earliest  Common-place  Book,  ending  in  October,  17S5,  we  feel  bound 
to  place  them  in  the  order  of  time  to  which  he  assigned  them. 


124  POEMvS   AND   SONGS.  [1785. 

Her  dear  idea  round  my  heart, 

Should  tenderly  entwine. 
Tho'   mountains  rise,   and  deserts  howl, 

And  oceans  roar  between  ; 
Yet,  dearer  than  my  deathless  soul, 

I  still  would  love  my  Jean. 

[The  affection  for  Jean  Armour  displayed  here  is  quite  in  keep- 
ing with  the  language  and  sentiment  expressed  in  the  "Epistle 
to  Davie."  Indeed,  on  comparing  these,  the  reader  will  naturally 
conclude  that  they  must  have  been  composed  about  the  same 
date.  In  the  one,  we  find  the  poet-lover  thus  expressing  him- 
self— > 

"  Her  dear  idea  brings  relief  and  solace  to  my  breast;" 

and  here   he   says,  almost  in  the  identical  words — 

"Her  dear  idea  round  ray  heart  shall  tenderly  entwine." 

Again,  in  the  "  Epistle,"  he  invokes  heaven  to  witness  that — 

"  The  life-blood  streaming  through  my  heart, 
Or  my  more  dear  immortal  part, 
Is  not  more  fondly  dear." 

And  in  this  little  song — the  first  sketch  of  the  world-famous  "  Of 
a'  the  airts,"  &c. — the  same  language  is  employed: — 

"  Yet,  dearer  than  my  deathless  soul, 
I  still  would  love  my  Jean." 

The  complete  copy  of  the  "Epistle  to  Davie,"  which  the  poet  pre- 
sented to  Aiken  in  1786,  certainly  bears  the  date  "January,  1785," 
as  we  have  already  noticed  ;  but  we  must  not  therefore  conclude 
(as  Chambers  does)  that  the  tvhole  of  the  poem  was  completed  at 
so  early  a  date.  The  references  to  Jean  are  thrown  in  near  the 
close  of  the  poem,  and  if  it  were  now  possible  to  get  a  sight  of 
the  original,  as  actually  forwarded  to  Sillar  in  January,  1785,  it 
would  likely  shew  very  different  readings  in  the  three  closing 
stanzas,  from  those  in  the  printed  copy.  The  early  date  assigned 
to  that  poem  was  a  puzzle  to  Lockhart,  not  only  from  its  wonder- 
ful perfection  in  so  very  intricate  and  difficult  a  measure,  but  also 
from  its  glowing  celebration  of  Jean  during  the  very  infancy  of 
his  acquaintance  with  her.] 


ST.  27.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  12o 


SONG— RANTIN,  ROVIN  ROBIN. 

(Cromek,    1808.) 

There  was  a  lad  was  born  in  Kyle,* 
Bnt  whatna  day  o'   wliatna  style,  f 
I  doubt  it's  hardly  worth  the  while 
To  be  sae  nice  wi'   Robin. 
Chor. — Robin  was  a  rovin  boy, 

Rantin,   rovin,  rantin,  rovin, 
Robin  was  a  rovin  boy, 
Rantin,  rovin  Robin  ! 

Our  monarch's  hindmost  year  but  ane  one 

Was  five-and-twenty  days  begun,  % 
'Twas  then  a  blast  o'  Jan  war'  win' 
Blew  hansel  §  in  on  Robin. 

Robin  was,   &c. 

The    gossip    kcekit   in    his    loof^  peered  palm 

Quo'  scJu\    "Wha  lives  will  see  the  proof,       she 
This  waly  boy  will  be  nae  coof:    goodly     blockhead 
I  think  we'll  ca'  him  Robin."  caii 

Robin  was,   «&;c. 

"He'll  hac  misfortunes  great  an'  sma\  have  smaii 
But  ay  a  heart  aboon  them  a\  ever  above  aii 
He'll  be  a  credit  ////  us  a', —  to 

We'll  a'   be  proud  o'   Robin." 
Robin  was,   &c. 


*  The  central  district  of  Ayrshire.    See  note  on  The  T^ua  Doirs,  p.  203. 

t  But  which  day  of  which  style.  The  new  style  of  computing  time  had  been 
lately  introduced,  and  both  styles  were  used  at  this  time  in  Scotland.  In  cities 
the  new  style  was  generally  adopted,  but  people  living  in  remote  country  dis- 
tricts still  adhered  to  the  old  .style,  as  is  the  ca.se  in   Russia  to  this  day.— J.  H. 

JJanuary  25,   1759,  the  date  of  my  hardship's  vital  existence.—.^.  B. 

gA  han.sel  is  the  first  gift  given  on  any  particular  occasion  or  at  any  particu 
lar  season. — J.  H. 


126  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

' '  But  sure  as  three  times  three  mak  nine, 
I  see  by  ilka  score  and  line,  every 

This  chap  will  dearly  like  our  kin', 
So  leeze  me  on*  thee  !  Robin." 
Robin  was,  &c. 

♦' G^z/2^  faith,"  quo'  scho,   "I  doubt  you,  sir,  ^°°^} 
Ye  gar  the  lasses  lie  aspar  make 

But  twenty  fauts  ye  may  hae  waur    faults     worse 
So  blessins  on  thee  !  Robin." 
Robin  was,   &G. 


[Referring  to  our  notes  to  the  two  preceding  pieces,  we  may 
observe  that  this  song  displays  a  vivid  forecast  of  the  author's 
coming  fame.  Dr.  Waddell,  in  the  mistaken  belief  that  it  was 
composed  in  1784,  calls  it  "a  perfect  prophetic  and  pictorial 
idyll,  which  must  be  accepted  as  a  very  singular  and  truthful 
anticipation   of  his   own    future   greatness." 

The  only  variation  of  the  poet's  text  which  we  have  to  note 
is  first  found  in  Cunningham's  edition  (1834).  His  reading  of 
the  two  opening  lines   of  the   closing  stanza  is  as   follows  : — 

"  Gude  faith  !"  quo'  scho,  "I  doubt  you  gar 
The  bonie  lassie  lie  aspar." 

The  reverend  editor  above  quoted  says  on  this  point: — "All 
attempts  to  decorate  or  to  enrich  this  verse  with  better  rhymes 
and  worse  sense,  not  only  vitiate  its  moral  integrity,  but  destroy 
its  pictorial  truthfulness  ;  in  a  word,  vulgarise  and  debase  it.  That 
Cromek's  edition  is  the  correct  edition,  there  cannot  be  a  shadow 
of  a  doubt ;  and  it  should  be  restored  and  preserved  accord- 
ingly." 

Burns  composed  this  song  to  the  tune  of  "Dainty  Davie," 
and  he  has  anxiously  pointed  out  that  the  chorus  is  set  to  the 
low  part  of  the  melody.  Templeton,  the  eminent  vocalist,  selected 
another  air — "O  gin  ye  were  dead,  gudeman  " — for  his  own  sing- 
ing of  this  song,  which  necessitated  not  only  an  alteration  of  the 
words  of  the  chorus  to  make  it  fit  the  music,  but  a  change  in 
other  parts  of  the  air  to  suit  it  to  the  words.  The  tune,  "  Dainty 
Davie,"    is   one   of  our   oldest  ;    it  appears  in  Play  ford's  collection, 

*  Leeze  me  on :  i.  e.,  let  me  set  my  heart  on. 


^.T.    27.] 


POEMS  AND   SONGS. 


127 


1657  ;  and  as  a  proper  vocal  set  of  the  melody  is  now  nowhere  to 
be  found,    we  here  annex   it. 


Canty. 


There  was    a     lad  was      bom        in    Kyle,    But      what  -  na       day     o*       what- 


style,     I      doubt   its  hard-ly       worth     the  while  To        be     cae     nice       wi' 


Ro    -    bin. 


Ro  -  bin  was    a         ro  •  vin  boy.  Ran  -  tin,  rov  -  in,  ran  -  tin. 


In  the  MS.  of  early  pieces  presented  by  the  poet  to  Mrs. 
Dunlop,  to  which  we  have  referred  at  pp.  11  and  33  supra,  a 
remarkable  travestie   of  the   foregoing  song  is   inserted  thus  : — 

There  was  a  birkie  bom  in  Kyle, 
But  whatna  day  o'  whatna  style, 
I  doubt  its  hardly  worth  the  while 
To  be  sae  nice  wi'  Davie. 
I,eeze  me  on  thy  curly  pow, 
Bonie  Davie,  dainty  Davie ! 
Leeze  me  on  thy  curly  pow, 
Thou'se  ay  my  dainty  Davie. 


The  name  "Davie,"  instead  of  Robin,  is  thus  continued  through- 
out the  song,  and  at  verse  4,  line  3,  instead  of  "He'll  be  a  credit 
to  us  a',"  we  read,   "He'll   gie  his   daddie's   name   a  blaw."] 

(According  to  Chambers,  there  was  some  rumor,  but  upon  no 
very  valid  authority  so  far  as  he  could  learn,  that  some  wayfaring 
woman,  who  chanced  to  be  present  at  the  poet's  birth,  actually 
announced  some  such  prophecy  respecting  the  infant  placed  in 
her  arms. — J.  H.) 


128  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 


ELEGY  ON  THE  DEATH  OF  ROBERT  RUIS- 

SEAUX.* 

(Cromek,  1808.) 

Now  Robin  lies  in  his  last  lair^  resting-place 

He'll  gabble  rhyme,  nor  sing  nae  mair ;  no  more 
Cauld  poverty,  wi'  hungry   stare,  coid 

Nae  mair  shall  fear  him  ; 
Nor  anxious  fear,  nor  cankert  care,  cankered 

E'er  mair  come  n«ar  him. 

To  tell  the  truth,  they  seldom  y^^/zV  him,  troubled 
Except  the  moment  that  they  crush' d  him  ; 
For  sime  as  chance  or  fate  had  hush't  'em    soon 

Tho'  e'er  sae  short. 
Then  wi'  a  rhyme  or  sang  he  lash'd  'em, 

And  thought  it  sport. 

Tho'  he  was  bred  to  kmtra-wark^  work  on  the  farm 
And  counted  was  baith  ivight  and  stark^s\.o\ix  strong 
Yet  that  was  never  Robin's  mark 

To  mak  a  man  ;  make 

But  tell  him,  he  was  learn' d  and  clark^       cierkiy 

Ye  roos^d  him  than  !  extoUea 

[We  are  greatly  mistaken  if  Burns  did  not  compose  this 
"  Eleg>' "  after  he  had  issued  his  prospectus  to  publish  the 
wonderful  Kilmarnock  volume.  It  seems  highly  probable  that  it 
was  intended  to  occupy  the  last  page  of  that  volume,  but  with- 
drawn when  he  had  composed  the  far  superior  "Poet's  Epitaph," 
which   so   beautifully   closes   the   work. 

Until  the  original  MS.  shall  be  recovered,  from  which  Cromek 
printed,  in  the  "  Reliques,"  the  poet's  own  abridged  copy  of  his 
first  Common-place  Book,  the  exact  chronological  position  of  the 
preceding  four  pieces   cannot  be  definitely   fixed.] 

*  Fr.  for  rivulets,  or  bums,  a  play  upon  his  own  name. 


^T.  27.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  129 

EPISTLE  TO  JOHN  GOLDIE,  IN  KILMARNOCK, 

AUTHOR   OF  THE   GOSPEL   RECOVERED. — AUGUST,   1 785. 

(The  Glenriddell  MSS.,  1874.) 

O  GOWDIE,   terror  c'  the  whigs,  of 

Dread  o'  blackcoats  and  reverend  wigs  ! 
Sour  Bigotry  on  his  last  legs 

Girns  an'  looks  back,  grins 

Wishing  the  ten  Egyptian  plagues 

May  seize  you  quick. 

Poor  gapin,  glowrin  Superstition  !         stanng  amazediy 
Wae' s  7)16^  she's  in  a  sad  condition  :  woe  is  me 

Fye  !  bring  Black  Jock,  *  her  state  physician, 

To  see  her  water  : 
Alas,  there's  ground  for  great  suspicion 

She'll  ne'er  get  better. 

Enthusiasm's  past  redemption, 

Gane  in  a  gallopin  consumption  :  far  gone 

Not  «'  her  quacks,  wi'  a'  their  giunption^  aii    smartness 

Can  ever  mend  her  ; 
Her  feeble  pulse  gics  strong  presumption,  gives 

She'll  soon  surrender. 

Auld  Orthodoxy  lang  did  grapple^  grope  about 

For  every  hole  to  get  a  stapplc  y-^  stoppie 

But  now  she  fetches  at  the  thrappie^       gasps     throat 

An'  fights  for  breath  ; 
Haste,  gie  her  name  up  in  the  chapel,  | 

Near  unto  death. 

♦The  Rev.  J.  Russell,  Kilmarnock.—/?.  B. 

t  A  handful  of  straw  used  to  stop  a  hole  in  a  thatched  roof  is  called  a  stapple. 
Orthodoxy  long  tried  to  stop  all  sources  of  error,  and  to  repair  all  the  injury 
the  church  received  through  "Ncw-I<ight"  heresy. — J.  H. 

I  Get  her  prayed  for  in  Mr.  Russell's  kirk  (known  as  the  chapel)  as  being  at 
the  point  of  death.— J.  II. 

I.  I 


130 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


[1785. 


It's  you  an'  Taylor*  are  the  chief 

To  blame  for  «'   this  black  mischief  ;t  *" 

But  could  the  Iv — d's  ain  folk  get  leave,  own 

A  loom  tar  barrel  empty 

An'  twa  red  peats  wad  bring  relief,    blazing  turfs  would 

And  end  the  quarrel. 


For  me,  my  skill's  but  very  sma^ ^ 
An'  skill  in  prose  I've  nane  ava ; 
But  qiiietletiszvise^  between  us  twa, 

Wcel  may  ye  speed  ! 
And  tho'  they  sud  you  sair  7niscd' ^  should 

Ne'er  fash  your  head. 


small 

none  at  all 

quietly 

well 

sore  miscall 

trouble 


E'en  swinge  the  dogs,  and  thresh  them  sicker / so\ind\y 
The  7yiair  they  squeel  ay  chap  the  thicker;  more  lay  on 
And  still  'mang  hands  a  hearty  bicker  beaker 

O'  something  stout  ; 
It  gars  an  ozvthors  pulse  beat  quicker,  author's 

And  helps  his  wit. 

There's  naething  like  the  honest  nappy ;  strong  drink 
Whare''  II  ye  e'  er  see  men  sac  happy,  where  win  so 
Or  women  soiisie^  saft  and  sappy^  piump     juicy 

'Tween  morn  and  morn. 
As  them  wlia  like  to  taste  the  drappie^       drop  drink 

In  glass  or  horn? J 

I've  seen  me  daezH  upon  a  time,  dazed 

I  scarce  could  wink  or  see  a  styme ;  glimmer 

Just  ae  haitf-nmtchkiii'  does  me  prime,  two  giiis 

(Ought  less,  is  little,) 
Then  back  I  rattle  on  the  rhyme, 

As  gleg^  S    a    whittle.  sharp  as       knife 

*Dr.  Taylor,  of  Norwich.— >?.  B. 
\  Mischief  has  accent  on  last  syllable. — J.  H. 

X  Ale  was  generally  drunk  from  horn  quaichs  or  wooden  caups.     Glass  was 
reserved  for  whisky. — J.  H. 


X.r.  27.]  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  131 

[The  person  thus  addressed  was  a  noteworthy  individual.  His 
father  was  the  miller  at  Craigmill,  on  Cessnock  water,  in  Galston 
parish,  where  the  future  philosopher  was  born,  in  171 7.  He 
showed  an  early  aptitude  for  science  and  mechanical  skill,  and 
soon  became  an  adept  in  geometry,  architecture  and  astronomy. 
While  yet  a  young  man,  he  removed  to  Kilmarnock,  where  he 
carried  on  business,  first  as  a  cabinet-maker,  and  afterwards  as  an 
extensive  wine  and  spirit  merchant ;  but  all  his  leisure  time  was 
devoted  to  his  favorite  scientific  pursuits  and  mechanical  contriv- 
ances. In  his  religious  views  he  was  originally  orthodox,  and 
joined  the  Autiburgher  congregation  at  Kilmaurs  ;  but  before  he 
was  fifty  years  old  his  opinions  underwent  a  radical  change. 
These  he  carried  much  beyond  the  Arminianism  of  the  New  Light 
party.  In  1780  he  published  his  opinions  in  three  Svo  volumes, 
printed  at  Glasgow,  of  which  a  second  edition  appeared  in  1785. 
These  essays  were  extensively  read,  and  the  work  was  popularly 
termed  "  Gowdie's  Bible." 

At  the  date  of  Burns'  epistle  to  him,  Goldie  was  68  j-ears  old. 
Whether  the  poet  introduced  himself  by  this  means  or  had  pre- 
viously known  him,  it  is  impossible  to  tell  ;  but  certain  it  is  that 
the  bard  relied  much  on  Goldie's  friendship  and  advice  during  his 
visits  to  Kilmarnock  while  his  poems  were  at  the  press.  We  hear 
nothing  of  Goldie,  however,  in  the  poet's  prose  correspondence. 
His  son  was  Lieut.  Goldie,  R.N.,  who  entered  the  navy  in  1803. 
The  old  gentleman  himself  survived  to  181 1. 

This  poem  was  first  published  in  a  very  imperfect  form  in  Stew- 
art and  Meikle's  Tracts,  1799.  There  it  has  only  five  stanzas — the 
third  and  fourth  being  transposed,  and  the  four  concluding  ones 
entirely  wanting.  The  two  closing  verses  of  the  present  complete 
copy  were  published  by  Cromek  in  1808,  as  a  stray  fragment  found 
in  one  of  the  poet's  Common-place  Books.  Allan  Cunningham 
avers  that  he  had  seen  a  copy  of  the  first  Epistle  to  Lapraik,  of 
which  they  formed  a  part,  and  were  introduced  between  the  sixth 
and  seventh  verses.  This  may  be  one  of  Allan's  hap-lia/,ard  state- 
ments. 

The  following  variation  on  the  fourth  verse  appears  in  the 
Common-place  Book,  and  is  adopted  by  Chambers  and  Gilfillan  : 


But  now  she's  got  an  unco  ripple, 
Haste,  gie  her  name  up  i'  the  chapel 

Nigh  unto  death  ; 
See  how  she  fetches  at  the  thrapple, 

And  gasps  for  breath.] 


132 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


[1785. 


THIRD  EPISTLE  TO  J.  LAPRAIK. 

(Lapraik's  Poems,  1788.) 

Guid  speed  and  fiirdcr  to  you,  Johnie,  good     prosperity 
Guid  health,  hale  ha>i' s  an'  weather  bonie :     ^hoie) 

'  _  ,      '       hands  •• 

Now,  when  ye' re  nickin  down  fu'  cannie* 
The  staff  o'  bread,  f 

May  ye  ne'er  want  a  stoup  o'  bran'y 
To  clear  your  head. 


May  Boreas  never  thresh  your  rigs,  % 
Nor  kick  your  rickles  aff  their  legs, 
Sendin  the  stuff  o'er  muirs  an'  haggs 

Like  drivin  wrack 
But  may  the  tapniost  grain  that  wags 

Come  to  the  sack. 


flagon 


ricks  oflf 
mosses 


I'm  bizzie^  too,  an  skclpin  at  it,  busy  working  briskly 
But  bitter,  daiidin  showers  hae  zvat  it  ;  beating  wet 
Sae  my  aiild  stumpie  pen  I  gat  it  ow     got 

Wi'   imickle  wark^  much  work 

An'  took  my  jocteleg§  an'  whatt  it,         cut  or  mended 

Like  ony  dark.  cierk 


It's  now  tiva  month  that  I'm  your  debtor, 
For  your  brau\  nameless,  dateless  letter, 
Abusin  me  for  harsh  ill-nature 

On  holy  men. 
While  deil  a  hair  yoursel  ye' re  better, 

But  mair  profane. 


two 
fine 


*  Cutting  down  with  quiet  skill. 

fA  Bible  term  for  "bread,  the  staflf  of  life." 

X  May  the  wind  never  thrash  your  ridges  of  ripe  grain.  This  is  a  serious  loss 
to  a  farmer,  as  the  best  of  the  grain  (the  "tap-pickle")  is  the  most  liable  to  be 
shaken  out.-  -J.  H. 

g  Knife,  so-called  after  Jacques  de  Liege,  the  name  of  a  Flemish  cutler.  Up  to 
the  union  of  England  and  Scotland  Flanders  supplied  Scotland  with  most  of  her 
cutlery. — J.  H. 


I 


mr.  27.] 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


133 


But  let  the  kirk-folk  ring  their  bells, 

Let's  sing  about  our  noble  sePs:  selves 

We'll  cry  naQ  j'ads /"rae  heathen    hills     goddesses  from 

To  help,  or  roose  us  ;         inspire 
But  browster  wives  an'  whisky  stills,  br«wer 

They  are  the  muses. 

Your  friendship,  sir,   I  winna  qiiat  it,         win  not  quit 

An'   if  ye  mak'  objections  at  it. 

Then  hand  in  neive  some  day  we'll  knot  it,       fist 

And  witness  take, 
An'  when  wi'  usquabae^  we've  wat  it  wUiskey     wet 

It  winna  break. 

But  if  the  beast  and  branks  be  spar'd    horse  and  bndie 

kiue        going 

victual  (crop) 

thatched 

fireside 

one 


Till  kye  be  gaun  without  the  herd,t 
And  a'  the  vittel  in  the  yard. 

And  theekit  right, 
I  mean  your  inglc-side  to  guard 

Ae  winter  night. 


Then  muse-inspirin  aqtiavito'  * 

Shall  mak'  us  baith  sae  biythc  and  witty,  both    cheerful 

Till  ye  forget  ye' re  auld  aii'  gatty^      oid  and  paunchy 

And  be  as  canity  merry 

As  ye  were  nine  year  less  than  thretty —  thirty 

Sweet  ane  an'  twenty  ! 

But  stooks  are  cowpct  wi'   the  blast,  overturned 

And  now  the  sin^i  kecks  in  the  west,  sun  peeps 

Then  I  maun  rin  amang  the  rest,  must 

An'  quat  my  chanler ;       bagpipe 

Sae  I  subscribe  mysel  in  haste. 

Yours,   Rab  the  Ranter. 
Sept.  13,  1785. 


*  From  Gaelic  uisf;e-hratha,  water  of  life.  lhqiiebiiuf;li  is  n  form  of  the  same 
word,  and  whiskey  is  simply  a  corruption  of  uisgf.  Aquaintw  is  n  Latin  trans- 
lation  of  uscntcbaugh. — J.   II. 

tTill  the  crops  are  off  the  ground  and  cows  can  go  unhcrded.-J.   II. 


134  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [178s 


EPISTLE  TO  THE  REV.  JOHN  M'MATH, 

INCLOSING  A  COPY  OF    "  HOI.Y    WILLIEl'S   PRAYE;R,"    WHICH 
HE   HAD   REQUESTED,    SEPT.    1 7,    1 785. 

(Cromek,  1808.) 

While  at  the  stook  the  shearers  corner  reapers  crouch f 
To  shun  the  bitter  blaudin  show'r,  pelting 

Or  in  giilravage  rinnin  scowr  ;      joyous  mischief  running 

To  pass  the  time, 
To  you  I  dedicate  the  hour  ^ 

In  idle  rhyme. 

My  musie,  tir'd  wi'  mony  a  sonnet 
On  gown,  an'   ban\  an'  douse  black  band    grave 

bonnet^  *  cap 

Is  grown  right  eerie  now  she's  done  it,      sore  afraid 

Lest  they  shou'd  blame  her. 
An'  rouse  their  holy  thunder  on  it 

And  anathem  her. 

I  own  'twas  rash,  an'  rather  hardy, 

That  I  a  simple,   country  bardie^  bard 

Shou'd  meddle  wi'  a  pack  sae  sturdy, 

Wha,  if  they  ken  me,t 
Can  easy,  wi'  a  single  wordie, 

Louse  h — 11  upon  me.  loose 

But  I  gae  mad  at  their  grimaces,  ga 

Their  sighin,  cantin,  grace-proud  faces. 
Their  three-mile  prayers,  an'  hauf-mile  graces, 

Their  raxin  conscience,  elastic 

Whase  greed,  revenge,  and  pride  disgraces 

IVaur  nor  their  nonsense,    worse  than 


*  Tired  of  satirizing  the  clergy. — J.  H. 
tKnow  me  to  be  the  author.— J.  H, 


fST-  27.]  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  135 

There's  Gaw'n,*  niiscd'd  waiir  than  a  beast, "'^'^^"^^ I 

Wha  has  mair  honor  in  his  breast 

Than  mony  scores  as  guides  the  priest   many    good  as 

IVha  sac  abused  him  :  who  so 

And  may  a  bard  no  crack  his  jest 

What  way  they've  used  him?    the  way 

See  him,  the  poor  man's  friend  in  need,  f 
The  gentleman  in  word  an'  deed — 
An'  shall  his  fame  an'  honor  bleed 

By  worthless  skellums^  scaiiowags 

An'  not  a  muse  erect  her  head 

To    COWe  the    blellufns  ?    awe       blusterers 

O  Pope,  had  I  thy  satire's  darts 

To  gie  the  rascals  their  deserts,  give 

I'd  rip  their  rotten,  hollow  hearts, 

An'   tell  aloud 
Their  jugglin  hocus-pocus  arts 

To  cheat  the  crowd. 

God  knows,  I'm  no  the  thing  I  sliou'd  be, 
Nor  am  I  even  the  thing  I  cou'd  be. 
But  twenty  times  I  rather  would  be 

An  atheist  clean. 
Than  under  gospel  colors  hid  be 

Just  for  a  screen. 

An  honest  man  may  like  a  glass,  love 

A.n  honest  man  may  like  a  lass, 

But  mean  revenge,  an'  malice  faiise  false 

He'll  still  disdain, 
An'  then  cry  zeal  for  gospel  laws. 

Like  some  wc  ken.  know 


•Cavin  Hamilton. 

tThis  couplet  was  afterwards  repeated,  iu  the  Dedication  to  Gaviu  Hamilton. 


136  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [17S5. 

They  take  religion  in  their  mouth  ; 

They  talk  o'   mercy,  grace,  an'  truth, 

For  what?  to  gie  their  malice  skouth  scope 

On  some  puir  wight^  poor  feiiow 

An'  hunt  him  down,  owre  right  and  ruth,  over 

To  ruin  streicht.  straight 

All  hail,  Religion  !  maid  divine  ! 

Pardon  a  muse  sae  mean  as  mine,  so 

Who  in  her  rough  imperfect  line 

Thus  daiirs  to  name  thee  ;  dares 

To  stigmatise  false  friends  of  thine 

Can  ne'er  defame  thee. 

Tho'  blotch' t  and  foul  wi'  moiiy  a  stain,  many 

An'  far  unworthy  of  thy  train. 

With  trembling  voice  I  tune  my  strain 

To  join  with  those 
Who  boldly  dare  thy  cause  maintain 

In  spite  of  foes  : 

In  spite  o'  crowds,  in  spite  o'  mobs, 
In  spite  o'  undermining  jobs. 
In  spite  o'  dark  banditti  stabs 

At  worth  an'  merit, 
By  scoundrels,  even  wi'  holy  robes, 

But  hellish  spirit. 

O  Ayr  !  my  dear,  my  native  ground, 
Within  thy  presbyterial  bound 
A  candid  liberal  band  is  found 

Of  public  teachers. 
As  men,  as  christians  too,  renown' d, 

An'  manly  preachers. 

Sir,   in  that  circle  you  are  nam'd  ; 
Sir,   in  that  circle  you  are  fam'd; 


^T.  27.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  137 

An'  some,  by  whom  your  doctrine's  blam'd 

(Which  gies  ye  honor)  gives 

Even,  sir,  by  them  your  heart's  esteem' d, 
An'  winning  manner. 

Pardon  this  freedom  I  have  to' en,  taken 

An'  if  impertinent  I've  been. 

Impute  it  not,   good  sir,  in  ane  one 

IV/iasc  heart  ne'er  wrang'd  ye,    whose 
But  to  his  utmost  would  befriend 

Ought    ^/la/    bclang^  d  ye.        related  to  you 

[The  gentleman  to  whom  the  above  epistle  is  addressed  was 
assistant  and  successor  to  the  Rev.  Peter  Wodrow,  minister  of 
Tarbolton,  then  in  declining  health  through  the  infirmities  of  old 
age.  "Auld  Wodrow,"  and  his  young  helper,  M'Math,  are  both 
complimented  in  "The  Twa  Herds,"  as  able  preachers,  of  the 
liberal  or  "moderate"  stamp.  In  course  of  years,  Mr.  M'Math 
fell  into  a  morbid  condition  of  mind,  and  eventually  took  to  hard 
drinking,  and  died   in   the   Isle  of  Mull,    in    1825. 

The  two  preceding  epistles,  dated  within  a  few  days  of  each 
other,  specially  refer  to  the  bad  harvest  of  1785,  which  tended  to 
discourage  the  poet  at  his  farming,  and  perhaps  to  drive  him  to 
the  muse  for  consolation.  The  signature  to  the  first  of  these 
is  a  sobriquet  borrowed  from  the  popular  song  of  "  Maggie 
Lauder."  Chambers  tells  us  that  in  writing  poems,  such  as  the 
above,  reflecting  on  the  religious  party  to  which  he  was  opposed. 
Burns  set  at  naught  the  earnest  remonstrances  of  both  his  mother 
and  his  brother.^.  H.] 


SECOND  EPISTLE  TO  DAVIE, 

A    BROTHER    POET. 
(vSilIvAr's   Poems,  1789.) 

A  ULD    NeIBOR,  Old  Neighbor 

I'm  three  times  doubly  o'er  your  debtor, 

For  your  aidd-f arrant^   frien'ly  letter;     droiiy cunning 

Tho'   I  maiut  say't,   I  doubt  ye  flatter,  must 

Ye  speak  sae  fair  ;  so 

For  my  puir,  silly,   rhymiii  claUcr  poor      tattle 

Some  less  maim  sa/'r.        must  serve 


138  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

Hale  be  your  heart,  hale  be  your  fiddle,  sound 

Lang  may  your  elbuckjink  aii'  diddle^  eibow  move  memiy 
To  cheer  you  thro'  the  weary  widdle  maze 

O'   war'  ly  cares  ;  worldly 

Till  baiviis'  bairns  kindly  cuddle       "''^''^'■""''"''j;,^^} 

Your  auld,  grey  hairs.* 

But  Davie,  lad,  P  m  rede  ye're  glaikit ;  i  fear  thoughtless 
I'm  tauld  the  muse  ye  hae  negleckit  ;  toid  have 
An'  gifi'Cs  sae,  ye  sud  be  licket  if     should 

Until  ye  fyke  ;  wince 

Sic  haiins  as  you  sud  ne'er  ^^  faik^,  ^^^^^^  excused} 

Be  hain't  wha  like.  spared 

For  me,  I'm  on  Parnassus'   brink,       ,  , 

'  _   '  tearing        make-j 

Rivin  the  words  to  gar  them  clink  ;  rhyme/ 

WJiyles  daesU  wi'  love,  whyles  daez't    sometimes  dazed 
wi'   drink, 

Wi'  jads  or  inasonsA ^   wenches, 

-'  .  free-masons  j 

An'  whyles,  but  ay  owi'c  late,  I  think  too 

Braw  sober  lessons.  fine 

Of  «'  the  thoughtless  sons  d'  man,  aii     of 

Commen'  me  to  the  bardie  clan  ;  poet  class 

Except  it  be  some  idle  plan 

O'  rhymin  clink. 

The    devil-//<^^/ that    I    sud  ban a  whit        should  swear 

They  ever  think. 

Nae  thought,  nae  view,  nae  scheme  o'  livin,  no 
Nae  cares  to  gie  us  joy  or  grievin,  give 

But  just  the  pouchie  put  the  nieve  in,     pocket     hand 

An'  while  ought's  there,  ^eiter-^ 
Then,  hiltie  skiltie^  we  gae  scrievin^  skelter      careering/ 

An'  fash  nae  niair.     trouble  no  more 

•This  verse  was  repeated  almost  verbatim  in  the  Epistle  to  Major  I,ogan,. 
fBums  was  at  this  time  an  ardent  Free-Mason.— J.  H. 


,^T.  27.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  139 

Lceze  nic  on  rhyme!  it's  ay  a  treasure,  commend  tne  to 
My  chief,  amaist  my  only  pleasure  ;  almost 

At  hame,  a-fiel\  at  wark,  or  leisure,  aficid 

The  muse,  poor  Jiizzie !  hussy 
Tho'  rough  an'   raploch  be  her  measure,  coarse 

She's  seldom  lazy. 

Hand  to  the  muse,  my  dainty  Davie  :  hold 

The  warV  may  play  you  mony  a  shavie ;  "orid. 
But  for  the  muse,  she'll  never  leave  ye,  trick  i 

Tho'  e'er  sae  piiir^  poor 

Na^  even  tho'  limpin  zvP  the  spavie  not    with    spavin 

Frae  door  to  door.  from 

[If  David  Sillar,  then  a  grocer  in  Irvine,  neglected  the  muses  at  the 
date  of  this  epistle  (supposed  to  be  about  October,  1785),  he  was  soon 
stimulated  to  exertion  by  the  success  of  Burns'  first  publication,  and 
induced  to  imitate  him,  so  far  as  could  be  done,  by  typography  and 
stationery.  This  epistle  of  Burns  he  introduced  in  the  early  pages  of 
his  book  ;  but,  in  truth,  it  was  the  only  valuable  thing  in  the  volume. 
Davie  played  ou  the  violin  a  little  :  hence  the  reference  iu  the  second 
stanza.] 


SONG— YOUNG  PEGGY  BLOOMS. 

(Johnson's  Muskum,  1787.) 

Young  Peggy  blooms  our  boniest  lass, 

Her  blush  is  like  the  morning. 
The  rosy  dawn,  the  springing   grass. 

With  early  gems  adorning. 
Her  eyes  outshine  the  radiant  beams 

That  gild  the  passing  shower. 
And  glitter  o'er  the  crystal  streams. 

And  cheer  each  fresh' ning  flower. 

Her  lips,  more  than  the  cherries  bright, 
A  richer  d)e  has  graced  them  ; 

They  charm  th'  admiring  gazer's  sight, 
And  sweetly  tempt  to  taste  them  ; 


140  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [1785. 

Her  smile  is  as  the  evening  mild, 
When  feather' d  pairs  are  courting, 

And  little  lambkins  wanton  wild, 
In  playful  bands  disporting. 

Were  Fortune  lovely  Peggy's  foe, 

Such  sweetness  would  relent  her  ; 
As  blooming  Spring  unbends  the  brow 

Of  surly,  savage  Winter. 
Detraction's  eye  no  aim  can  gain. 

Her  winning  powers  to  les^n ; 
And  fretful  Envy  grins  in  vain. 

The  poison' d  tooth  to  fasten. 

Ye  Pow'rs  of  Honor,   Love,  and  Truth, 

From  ev'ry  ill  defend  her  ! 
Inspire  the  highly-favor'd  youth 

The  destinies  intend  her  : 
Still  fan  the  sweet  connubial  flame 

Reponsive  in  each  bosom  ; 
And  bless  the  dear  parental  name 

With  many  a  filial  blossom. 

[Burns  seems  to  have  taken  considerable  pains  with  this  fine 
composition,  which,  though  highly  finished,  is  somewhat  too  arti- 
ficial to  have  been  a  spontaneous  outburst  of  personal  passion. 
The  subject  of  it  was  Miss  Peggy  Kennedy,  the  daughter  of  a 
Carrick  laird,  and  a  relative  of  Mrs.  Gavin  Hamilton.  The  poet 
was  introduced  to  her  when  she  was  on  a  visit  to  the  Hamiltons. 
She  was  then  a  blooming  young  woman  of  seventeen,  and  was 
understood  to  be  betrothed  to  McDowall,  of  Logan,  the  youthful 
representative  of  the  oldest  and  richest  family  in  Galloway  ;  but, 
according  to  Chambers,  "a  train  of  circumstances  lay  in  her  path, 
which  eventually  caused  the  loss  of  her  good  name,  and  her 
early  death."  We  shall  again  have  occasion  to  refer  to  this  lady 
as  the  supposed  subject  of  another  piece  by  Burns,  "  Fragment 
on  Sensibility."  The  poet  enclosed  the  present  verses  to  Miss 
Kennedy  in  a  letter,  concluding  thus:  "That  the  arrows  of  mis- 
fortune may  never  reach  your  heart — that  the  snares  of  villany 
may  never  beset  you  in  the  road  of  life — that  Innocence  may 
hand  you  by  the  path  of  Honor  to  the  dwelling  of  Peace,  is  the 
sincere  wish  of  him  who  has  the  honor  to  be,"  &c.] 


^T.  27.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  141 


SONG— FAREWELL  TO  BALLOCHMYLE. 

(Johnson's  Museum,  1790.) 

The  Catrine  woods  were  yellow  seen, 

The  flowers  decay' d  on  Catrine  lee^  lea 

Nae  laverock  sang  on  hillock  green,  lark 

But  nature  sicken' d  on  the  e^e.  eye 
Thro'  faded  groves  Maria  sang, 

Hersel  in  beauty's  bloom  the  while ;  herself 

And  ay  the  wild-wood  echoes  rang,  ever 

Fareweel  the  braes  o'   Ballochmyle  !    steep  banks 

Low  in  your  wintry  beds,  ye  flowers. 

Again  ye' 11  flourish  fresh  and  fair  ; 
Ye  birdies  *  dumb,  in  with' ring  bowers, 

Again  ye' 11  charm  the  vocal  air. 
But  here,  a.las !  for  me  nae  mair 

Shall  birdie  charm,  or  floweret  smile  ; 
Fareweel  the  bonie  banks  of  Ayr, 

Fareweel,  fareweel  !  sweet  Ballochmyle  ! 


[This  beautiful  lyric  was  composed  about  the  same  time  as  the 
preceding  song.  Ballochmyle  had  long  been  the  property  of  the 
Whitefoord  family  ;  but,  "about  this  period.  Sir  John  Whitefoord's 
misfortunes,  arising  chiefly  through  his  connections  with  the  Ayr 
Bank,  obliged  him  to  sell  his  estates.  The  "Maria"  of  this  song 
was  Miss  Whitefoord,  who  afterwards  became  Mrs.  Cranstoun.  The 
"Catrine  Woods,"  and  "Catrine  Eea,"  are  in  the  immediate  neigh- 
borhood of  Ballochmyie,  and  were  then  the  property  of  Professor 
Dugald  Stewart.  The  fine  scenery  there  is  at  the  distance  of  al)out 
two  miles  from  Mauchline,  and  was  a  favorite  haunt  of  Burns 
while  he  lived  at  Mossgiel.] 

•Burns  makes  frequent  use  of  the  Scotch  diminutive  in  ic  with  fine  effect. —J.  H. 


142  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

FRAGMENT— HER  FLOWING  LOCKS. 
(Cromek,  1808.) 

Her  flowing  locks,  the  raven's  wing, 
Adown  her  neck  and  bosom  king ;  hang 

How  sweet  unto  that  breast  to  cling. 
And  round  that  neck  entwine  her ! 

Her  lips  are  roses  wat  wi'  dew,  wet 

O,  what  a  feast,  her  bonie  mouA.  mouth 

Her  cheeks  a  mair  celestial  hue,  more 
A  crimson  still  diviner! 

[This  fittle  "artist's  sketch"  of  female  loveliness  has  no  certain 
history  attached  to  it.  Cunningham  connects  it  with  a  Mauchline 
incident ;  and,  if  he  is  right  in  that  respect,  it  seems  probable 
that  our  poet  intended  it  as   a  portrait  of  Miss  Whitefoord.] 

HALLOWEEN.* 

[Kilmarnock  Ed.,   1786.] 

The  following  poem  will,  by  many  readers,  be  well  enough 
understood  ;  but  for  the  sake  of  those  who  are  unacquainted 
with  the  manners  and  traditions  of  the  country  where  tlie 
scene  is  cast,  notes  are  added,  to  give  some  account  of  the 
principal  charms  and  spells  of  that  night,  so  big  with  prophecy 
to  the  peasantry  in  the  west  of  Scotland.  The  passion  of  pry- 
ing into  futurity  makes  a  striking  part  of  the  history  of  human 
nature  in  its  rude  state,  in  all  ages  and  nations  ;  and  it  may 
be  some  entertainment  to  a  philosophic  mind,  if  any  such 
honor  the  author  with  a  perusal,  to  see  the  remains  of  it 
among  the  more  enlightened  in  our  own. — R.  B. 


*  (All  Hallow  Eve  or  the  eve  of  All  Saints'  Day)  is  thought  to  be  a  night  when 
witches,  devils,  and  other  mischief-making  beings  are  all  abroad  on  their  bane- 
ful, midnight  errands ;  particularly  those  aerial  people,  the  fairies,  are  said,  on 
that  night,  to  hold  a  grand  anniversary. — /?.  £. 


^T.  27.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  143 

"Yes!  let  the  rich  deride,  the  proud  disdain, 
The  simple  pleasures  of  the  lowly  train  ; 
To  me  more  dear,  congenial  to  my  heart, 
One  native  charm,  than  all  the  gloss  of  art." 

Goldsmith. 


Upon  that  niglit,  when  fairies  light 

On  Cassilis  Downans  *  dance, 
Or  owrc  the  lays^  in  splendid  blaze,       over      leas 

On  sprightly  coursers  prance  ; 
Or  for  Colean  the  rout  is  ta'en, 

Beneath  the  moon's  pale  beams  ; 
There,  up  the  Cove,t  to  stray  an'  rove, 

Amang  the  rocks  and  streams 

To  sport  that  night : 


Amang  the  bonie  winding  banks. 

Where  Doon  rins^  whnplin^  clear  ;  mns  meandering 
Where  Bruce  %  aticc  ruled  the  martial  ranks,    once 

An'  shook  his  Carrick  spear  ; 
Some  merry,   friendly,   country-folks 

Together  did  convene. 
To  burn  their  iiits.  an'  pou  their  stocks.  ""*''     p"'^  i 

.    ^  ^  '       kale-stalks  f 

An'  hand  their  Halloween  hold 

FlC     blytJlC    that    night.  full  merry 


The  lasses  fcat^  an'  cleanly  neat,  trim 

A  fair  braw  than  when  they're  fine  ;  more  attractive 

Their  faces  blythe,   fu'  sweetly   k'ytJu\  appear 

Hearts  leal^  an'  warm,  an'   ki>i :         loyai      kind 


*  Certain  little,  romantic,  rocky,  preen  hills,  in  tlie  neighborhood  of  the  ancient 
Rcat  of  the  Karls  of  Cassilis. — A'.  li. 

tA  noted  cavern  near  Colean  House,  called  the  Cove  of  Colean  ;  which,  as  well 
as  Cassilis  Downans,  is  famed,  in  the  country,  for  being  a  favorite  haunt  of  the 
fairies. — A'.  H. 

\  The  famous  family  of  that  name,  the  ancestor  of  Roiikrt,  the  great  deliverer 
of  his  country,  were  Karls  of  Carrick. — A'.  //.  Cnrrick  is  the  most  southern  ol 
the  three  divisions  of  Ayrshire,  which  are  Cunningham,   Kyle  and  Carrick. 


144 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


L1785. 


The  lads  sae  trig^  wi'   wooer-babs  spruce     love-knots 

Weel-knotted  on  their  garten  ;  garter 

Some  iinco  blate.  an'  some  wi'  p-^/^^  ^^'^^^'^'^s^y  ^^y  1 

„  ,  ,  '  ^.  chatter/ 

Lrar  lasses    hearts  gang  stm^tin     make   go  beating 
Whyles  fast  at  night.  sometimes 

Then,  first  an'  foremost,  thro'  the  kail^        greens 

Their  '  stocks '  *  maiui  a'  be  sought  ance  ;  must 

They  steek  their  eett^  an'  grape  an'  shut    eyes     grope 

wale  choose 

For  muckle  anes,  an'  straught  anes,  large    straight 
Poor  hav'rel  W ill  fell  aff  the  df^ft,    ^ent^lfwmng} 

An'  wandered  thro'   the  '  bow-kail,  f 
An'  poll' t^  for  want  o'  better  shift,  puued 

A  ruiit^  was  like  a  sow-tail  staik 

Sae  bouP  t  that  night.  crooked 


Then,  straught  or  crooked,  yird  or     straight    earth 

nane^ 

They  roar  an'  cry  a'  throwHher ; 

The  vera  wee-things^  toddlin^  rin^ 

Wi'     stocks    out    owre    their 

shonther  : 

An'  p"?/^  the  custok's  sweet  or  sour,  whether) 

*  -^  '  heart  of  the  stalk  i 

Wi'  joctelegs  %  they  taste   them  ;  ciasp-knives 

Syne   cozily^  aboon  the  door,  snugiy     above 


none 

confusedly 

children  run  1 

totteringlj'  > 

stalks  over 

shoulder 


*The  first  ceremony  of  Hallovyeen  is,  pulling  each  a  "stock,"  or  plant  of  kail 
They  must  go  out,  hand  in  hand,  with  eyes  shut,  and  pull  the  first  they  meet 
with  :  its  being  big  or  little,  straight  or  crooked,  is  prophetic  of  the  size  and 
shape  of  the  grand  object  of  all  their  spells — the  husband  or  wife.  If  any  "yird," 
or  earth,  stick  to  the  root,  that  is  "tocher,"  or  fortune;  and  the  taste  of  the 
"custoc,"  that  is,  the  heart  of  the  stem,  is  indicative  of  the  natural  temper  and 
disposition.  Lastly,  the  stems,  or,  to  give  them  their  proper  appellation,  the 
''runts,"  are  placed  somewhere  above  the  head  of  the  door;  and  the  Christian 
names  of  people  whom  chance  brings  into  the  hou.se  are,  according  to  the  prior- 
ity of  placing  the  "runts,"  the  names  in  question. — R.  B. 

t  Cabbage.  The  cabbage-stalk  is  a  miserable  make-shift  for  the  legitimate 
kale-runt.  None  but  a  poor  "  hav'rel"  like  Willie  would  ever  draw  a  cabbage 
for  a  kale.  This  is  another  of  Burns'  inimitable  minute  touches  of  humor.— 
J.  H. 

\  See  note  on  p.  132. 


%\ 


3eT.  27.] 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


145 


Wi'   cannic  care,   they've  plac'd  them      cunning 
To  lie  that  nicrht.* 


The  lasses  staw  frae  'mang  them  a',t 

To  poti  their  stalks  o'  corn  ;  %  pun 

But  Rab  slips  out,   an'  jinks  about,  dodges 

Behint  the  muckle  thorn  :  large 

He  grippet  Nelly  hard  an'  fast ;  caught 

Loud  skirV  d  a'   the  lasses  ;  screamed 

But  her  tap-pickle  §  maist  was  lost,  nearly 

Whan  kintlin  in  the  '  fause-house '  |1  fondling 
Wi'  him  that  night. 


The  aiild  guid-wife' s  weel-hoordit 
nits** 

Are  round  an'  round  divided, 
An'  mony  lads'  an'   lasses'  fates 

Are  there  that  night  decided  : 
Some  kindle  couthie^  side  by  side. 

An'  burn  thegither  trimly  ; 
Some  start  awa  wi'  saucy  pride, 

An'  jump  out  owrc  the  cJiimlie 

Fu'  hisfh  that  nitrht. 


old  mistress'  1 
well-hoarded  > 


lovingly 
together 

chimney 


*  They  must  be  placed  with  such  care  that  it  can  be  easily  distinguished  under 
whose  "  runt"  each  particular  entrant  next  morning  passes — J.  H. 

tThe  girls  stole  out  from. amongst  them  all. 

t  They  go  to  the  barnyard,  and  pull  each,  at  three  several  times,  a  stalk  o^ 
oats.  If  the  third  stalk  wants  the  "top-pickle,"  that  is,  the  grain  at  the  top  ot 
the  stalk,  the  party  in  question  will  come  to  the  marriage-bed  anything  but  a 
maid.—/?.  B. 

2  Maidenhood,     TIio  "  tap-pickle"  is  the  most  valuable  grain  of  the  car. 

II  When  the  corn  is  in  a  doubtful  state,  by  being  too  green  or  wet,  the  stack- 
builder,  by  means  of  old  timber,  etc.,  makes  a  large  apartment  in  his  stack,  with 
an  opening  in  the /Sidc  which  is  fairest  exposed  to  the  wind:  this  he  calls  a 
"fause-house." — R.  li. 

**  IJurning  the  nuts  is  a  favorite  charm.  They  name  the  hul  and  lass  to  eacn 
particular  nut,  as  they  lay  them  in  the  fire  ;  and  according  as  they  bum  (juietly 
together,  or  start  from  beside  one  another,  the  course  and  issue  of  the  courtship 
will  be.— jV.  B. 


146 


POEMS   AND  SONGS. 


[1785. 


Jean  slips  in  twa,   wi'   tentie  e' e ;  watchful  eye 

Wha  '  twas,  she  wadna  tell  ;  would  not 

But  this  is  Jock^  an'   this  is  me,  jack 

She  says  in  to  hersel :  to  herself 
He  blees^  d  owre  her,  an'  she  owre  him,    blazed  over 

As  they  wad  never  in  air  part ;  would     more 

Till  fuff!  he  started  up  the  liim^  chimney 

And  Jean  had  e'en  a  sair  heart  sore 
To  see't  that  nis^lit. 


Poor  Willie,  wi'  his  bow-kail  rnnt^ 


cabbage-stock 

Was  brunt  wi'  primsie  Mallie ;         prudish  Mary} 

pet 


An'   Mar>^,   nae  doubt,   took  the  drunt^ 

To  be  compar'd  to  Willie  : 
Mall's  nit  lap  out,  wi'  pridefu'  fling 

An'  her  ain  fit^  it  brunt  it ;  own  foot 

While  Willie  lap,   an'  swoor  by   'jing,' 

'Twas  just  the  way  he  wanted 
To  be  that  niofht. 


leapt 
burned 


Nell  had  the  '  fause-house '  in  her  min', 

She  pits  hersel  an'   Rob  in  ;  puts  herseii 

In  loving  bleese  they  sweetly  join,  biaze 

Till  white  in  ase  they're  sobbin  :  ashes 

Nell's  heart  was  dancin  at  the  view; 

She  whisper' d  Rob  to  leick  for't :  look 

Rob,  stowlins^  pric''  d  her  bonie         stealthily  tasted 

moil^  mouth 

Fu'  cozie  in  the  nenk  for't,               snugiy  nook 
Unseen  that  night. 


But  Merran  sat  behint  their  backs, 
Her  thoughts  on  Andrew  Bell  ; 

She  lea'es  them  gashin  at  their  cracks,* 
An'  slips  out  by  hersel  : 


Marion 


•She  leaves  theiu  busily  engaged  in  their  gossip. 


ACT.    27.] 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


147 


She  thro'  the  yard  the  7iearest  taks. 

An'  for  the  kiln  she  goes  then, 
An'  darklins  grapct  for  the  ''batiks^''  groped 

And  in  the  'blue-clue'*  throws  then, 
Right  y^^r'/  that  night. 


takes  the     ) 
shortest  way  ■• 


rafters 


afraid 


An'  ay  she  winU^  an'  ay  she  swat^ 

I  wat  she  made  wajt  jaukin; 
Till  something  held  within  the  pat^ 

Guid  Iv — d  !  but  she  was  quaukin  ! 
But  whether  'twas  the  deil  himsel, 

Or  whether  'twas  a  bauk-cn\ 
Or  whether  it  was  Andrew  Bell, 

She  did  7ia  wait  on  talkin 

To  spier  that  night. 


wound    perspired 

delay 

pot 


wot 


end  of  a  rafter 


not 


enquire 


Wee  Jenny  to  her  graiuiie  says, 

"Will  ye  go  zcz'  me,  grannie? 
I'll  eat  the  apple  at  the  glass, f 

I  gat  frae  uncle  Johnie  : ' ' 
Sh.^  fiiff'' t  her  pipe  wV  sic  a  liint^X 

In  wrath  she  was  sae    vapU'in^ 
She  notic't  na  an  aizle  brunt 

Her  braw,  new,   worsct  apron 

Out  thro'  that  night. 

*' Ye  little  skelpie-limmer's-face  !§ 
I  daiir  you -try  sic  sportin. 


grand-dam 
with 

from 

puffed ) 

with  such  fury  > 

vaporing 

burning  cinder 

worsted 

through  and ) 

through     •' 


dare 


♦Whoever  would,  with  success,  try  this  spell,  must  strictly  observe  these  direc- 
tions :  Steal  out,  all  alone,  to  the  kiln,  and,  darkling,  throw  into  the  "pot"  a 
clue  of  bine  yarn  ;  wind  it  in  a  new  clue  off  the  old  one  :  and,  towards  the  latter 
end,  something  will  hold  the  thread  :  demand,  "  Wha  hands?"  i.  e.,  who  holds? 
and  answer  will  be  returned  from  the  kiln-pot  by  naming  the  christian  and  sur- 
name of  your  future  spouse. — R.  B. 

fTake  a  candle  and-  go  alone  to  a  looking-glass;  eat  an  apple  before  it,  and 
some  traditions  say,  you  should  comb  your  hair  all  the  time  ;  the  face  of  your 
conjugal  companion,  to  be,  will  be  seen  in  the  glass,  as  if  peeping  over  your 
.shoulder.— A'.  It. 

t  She  puffed  her  pipe  with  such  fury  that  she  made  its  contents  red  hot,  and 
an  ember  fell  out  and  burned  a  hole  in  her  apron. — J.  H. 

2  A  technical  term  in  female  scolding.— A",  li. 


148 


POEMS  AND   SONGS. 


[1785. 


As  seek  the  foul  thief  ony  place, 
For  him  to  spae  your  fortune  : 

Nae  doubt  but  ye  may  get  a  sight  I 
Great  cause  ye  hae  to  fear  it ; 

For  mony  a  ane  has  gotten  a  fright, 
An'  liv'd  an'  died  deleeret^ 
On  sic  a  night. 


d — 1  any 

foretell 

see  somethings 

"uncanny"    J 

have 

deliriou* 
such 


"Ae  hairs t  afore  the  Sherra-moor,  *  han-es* 

I  mind't  as  weel's  yestreeti — ^  yester-eve 

I  was  a  gilpey  then,  I'm  sure       ^  young  hussy 

I  was  11a  past  fyfteen  :  not 

The  simmer  had  been  caiild  aii'  wat^  coid  and  wet 

An'    stuff  was    unco'    green  ;              crops  uncommonly 
An'    ay    a    rantin    kirn    we  gClt^   merry  harvest-home      got 

An'  just  on  Halloween 

It  fell  that  night. 


leader  of  the 


reapers        J 
fellow 


**Our  '  stibble-rig''  was  Rab  M'Graen, 
A  clever,   sturdy  fallow ; 
His  sin  gat  Eppie  Sim  wi'   wean^  son  eispeth    child 

That  liv'd  in  Achmacalla:' 
He  gat  hemp-seed,  t  I  mind  it  weel, 

An'  he  made  luico  light  o't  ;  very 

But  mony  a  day  was  by  himself  many    out  of  his  mind 
He  was  sae  sairly  frighted  so 

That  vera  night." 


*  The  battle  of  Sheriffmuir  was  fought  between  the  Jacobite  clans,  led  by  the 
Earl  of  Mar,  and  the  Royalists,  led  by  Argyle,  in  1715,  on  the  northern  slope  of 
the  Ochil  hills,  near  Dunblane. — J.  H. 

t  Steal  out,  unperceived,  and  sow  a  handful  of  hemp-seed,  harrowing  it  with 
anything  you  can  conveniently  draw  after  you.  Repeat,  now  and  then — "Hemp- 
seed  I  saw  thee,  hemp-seed  I  saw  thee  ;  and  him  (or  her)  that  is  to  be  my  true 
love,  come  after  me  and  pou  thee."  Look  over  your  left  shoulder,  and  you  will 
see  the  appearance  of  the  person  invoked,  in  the  attitude  of  pulling  hemp.  Some 
traditions  say,  "Come  after  me  and  shaw  thee,"  that  is,  show  thyself;  in  which 
case  it  simply  appears.  Others  omit  the  harrowing,  and  say,  "Come  after  me 
and  harrow  thee." — R.  B. 


^1    ;7-3  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  140 

Then  up  gat  fcchtin  Jamie  Fleck,  fighting 

An'  he  swoor  by  his  conscience,  swore 

That  he  could  saw  hemp-seed  a  peck  ; 

For  it  was  a'  but  nonsense  : 
The  auld  guidman  j-aiight  down  the  pock^  reached 

An'  out  a  handfu'  gied  him  ;  gave 

Syne  bad  him  sX\^  frae  'mang  the  folk,  then     from 

Sometime  when  nae  ane  sce^  d  him,         observed 
An'  try't  that  night. 

He  marches  thro'  amang  the  stacks,  oat-stacks 

Tho'  he  was  something  sturtiii ;  nervous 

The  graip  he  for  a  harrow  taks,      three-pronged-fork 

An'  hatirls  at  his  airpin  :  drags     rear 

And  ev'ry  now  an'   then,  he  says, 

' '  Hemp-seed  I  sazv  thee,  sow 

An'  her  that  is  to  be  my  lass 

Come  after  me,  an'  draw  thee 
As  fast  this  nieht." 


He  whistl'd  up  *  Lord  Lenox'   March,'* 

To  keep  his  courage  cheery  ; 
Altho'  his  hair  began  to  arch. 

He  was  solQ.  /lcy''d  an'   ccric  :      frightened      dismal 
Till  presently  he  hears  a  squeak. 

An'   then  a  grane  an'  grimtle ;         groan     grunt 
He  by  his  shouther  gae  a  keek,       over     gave  a  peep 

An'  tumbled  wi'  a  wintle  red 

Oiit-oiurc  that  night.  right  over 


He  roar'd  a  horrid  murder-shout, 

In  dreadfu'   desperation  ! 
An'   young  an'  auld  come  riujiin  out,  running 

An'  hear  the  sad   narration  : 


•  A  popular  Scotch  tune. 


150  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1785. 

He  sre'oor  ^twas  hilchin  Jean  M' Craw,  swore  Hmping 
Or  croiicJiie  Aferran  Humphie —  crook-backed  Marion 

Till  stop  !  she  trotted  thro'   them  a'  ; 

An'  wha  was  it  but  griimphie  the  pig 

Asteer  that  night?  stirring 

Mes:  fain  zuad  to  the  barn  zaen,   Margaret     would. 

a5  •  1  1  ,   .  have  gone/ 

To  Winn  three  wechts  o'  naethmg  ;  *  winnow 

But  for  to  meet  the  deil   her  lane,  by  herself 

She  pai  but    little  faith    in  :  ^ad  not  much  heart  for 

She  gies  the  herd  a  pickle  nits,     ^     cow-herd     few 
An'   twa  red  cheekit  apples,  two 

To  watch,   while  for  the  barn  she  sets, 

In  hopes  to  see  Ta7n  Kipples  Tom 

That  vera  night. 

She  turns  the  key  wi'  cannie  thraw,  cautious  twist 

An'  owre  the  threshold  ventures  ;  over 
But  first  on  Sawnie  gies  a  ca\          Alexander     can 

Syne  baiildly  in  she  enters  :  boidiy 

A  ration  rattl'd  up  the  wa\  rat     waii 

An'  she  cry'd,   L — d  preserve  her ! 

An'  ran  thro'  7nidden-hole  an'  a',  dung-pit 

An'  pray'd  wi'  zeal  and  fervor, 

Fii^  fast  that  night.  fuu 

They  ho  ft  out  Will,  wi'  sair  advice  ;  """s^^  .'""^^ 
They  hecht  him  some  fine  braw  rt«^;  pretty  girJ 


*  This  chann  must  likewise  be  performed  unperceived  and  alone.  You  go  to 
the  barn,  and  open  both  doors,  taking  them  off  the  hinges,  if  possible  ;  for  there 
is  danger  that  the  being  about  to  appear  may  shut  the  doors,  and  do  you  some 
mischief.  Then  take  that  instrument  used  in  winnowing  the  corn,  which  in  our 
country  dialect  we  call  a  "  wecht,"  and  go  through  all  the  attitudes  of  letting 
down  corn  against  the  wind.  Repeat  it  three  times,  and  the  third  time  an 
apparition  will  pass  through  the  bam,  in  at  the  windy  door,  and  out  at  the  other, 
having  both  the  figure  in  question,  and  the  appearance  or  retinue,  marking  the 
employment  or  station  in  life. — R.  B.  (A  wecht  is  like  a  riddle,  only  having 
leather  in  place  of  wire.    A  small  wecht  resembles  a  drum-head. — J.  H.) 


art.  27.] 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


151 


It  chanc'd  the  stack  h.^  faddoni' t  thrice,*  fathomed 

Was  timmer-propt  for  thrawin  :  f 
He  taks  a  swirlie  auld  moss-oak  crooked 

For  some  black,  grousome  carlin  ;    ugiy  oid  woman 
An'  loot  a  winze,  an'  drew  a  stroke,    "^p^ecationl 

Till  skin  in  blypes  cam  haurlin  large  pieces    stripping 
Aff's  7iieves  that  night,     off  his  fists 


A  wanton  widow  Leezie  was,  Elizabeth 

As  cantic  as  a  kittlen ;  piayfui    kitten 

But  och  !  that  night,   amang  the  shazus,  trees 

She  gat  a  fearfu'  scttlin  !  setting  down 

She  thro'  the  whins,  an'  by  the  cairii,    heap  of  stones 

An'  owre  the  hill  gaed  scrievin  ; 
Whare  three  lairds'  lati' s  met  at  a 
burn,t 

To  dip  her  left  sark-sleeve  in,  shirt-sieeve 

Was  bent  that  night. 


careenng 
land-owners' 
estates 


'■} 


Whyles  owre  a  linn  the  burnie  plays. 

As  thro'   the  glen  it  luinipP  t  ; 
Whyles  round  a  rocky  scaur  it  strays, 

Whyles  in  a  wiel  it  dimpl't ; 
Whyles  glitter' d  to  the  nightly  rays, 

Wi'   bickcrin^   danciii  dazzle  ; 
Whyles  cookitX  underneath  the  braes, 

Below  the  spreading  hazle 

Unseen  that  night. 


sometimes) 
cascade  > 

meandered 
blnrt 
■eddy 

hu.»ying 
cociuettcd 


•Take  an  opportunity  of  going  unnoticed  to  a  "bear-stack,"  and  ftithoni  it 
three  times  round.  The  last  fathom  of  the  last  time,  you  will  catch  in  your 
arms  the  appearance  of  your  future  conjugal  yokefellow.— A'.  B. 

t  Propped  up  by  timber  to  keep  it  erect,  or  from  throwing.— J.  H. 

\  You  go  out,  one  or  more  (for  this  is  a  social  spell),  to  a  south  running  .spring, 
or  rivulet,  where  "three  lairds'  lands  meet,"  and  dip  your  left  .shirt-sleeve.  Go 
to  bed  in  sight  of  a  fire,  and  hang  your  wet  sleeve  before  it  to  dry.  Lie  awake, 
and,  some  time  near  midnight,  an  apparition,  having  the  exact  figure  of  the 
grand  object  in  question,  will  come  and  turn  the  sleeve,  as  if  to  dry  the  other  side 
of  it.— .^.  B. 


152  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785 

Amang  the  brackens^  on  the  brae^  ferns     knou 

Between  her  an'  the  moon, 

The  deil,  or  else  an  oiUler  quey^  outlying  heifer 

Gat  up  an'  go' e  a  croon:  gave     low 

Poor  Leezie's  heart  maist  lap  the  leapt  from  1 

"*  its  case    •» 

hool ; 
Near  lav'  rock-height  she  jumpet,  lark-high 

But    mist   a  fit^    ail'    in    the    pool  missed  a  foot       and 

Out-owre  the  lugs  she  plumpet,  ears 

Wi'  a  plunge  that  night. 

In  order,  on  the  clean  hearth-stane, 

The  '  luggies '  *  three  are  ranged  ; 
An'  ev'ry  time  great  care  is  ta''  en  taken 

To  see  them  duly  changed  : 
Auld  uncle  John,   wha  wedlock's  joys      old     who 

Sin'    '  Mar's-year'  f  did  desire, 
Because  he  gat  the  loom  dish  thrice,  empty 

He  heav'd  them  on  the  fire, 

In  wrath  that  night. 

Wi'  merry  sangs,  an'  friendly  cracks, 

I  wat  they  did  na  weary  ;  wot     not 

And  unco  tales,  an'  funnie  jokes —    strange  mysterious 
Their  sports  were  cheap  an'  cheeiy :        cheerful 

Till  butter'  d  sow''  ns,  |  wi'  fragrant  fine  meai  porridge 

lunt.  steam 

Set  a'  their  gabs  a-steerin  ;  mouths  agoing 

*Take  three  dishes,  put  clean  water  in  one,  foul  water  in  another,  and  leave 
the  third  empty;  blindfold  a  person,  and  lead  him  to  the  hearth  where  the  dishes 
are  ranged ;  he  (or  she)  dips  the  left  hand  :  if  by  chance  in  the  clean  water,  the 
future  (husband  or)  wife  will  come  to  the  bar  of  matrimony  a  maid  ;  if  in  the 
foul,  a  widow  ;  if  In  the  empty  dish,  it  foretells,  with  equal  certainty,  no  mar- 
riage at  all.  It  Is  repeated  three  times,  and  every  time  the  arrangement  of  the 
dishes  is  altered.—/?.  B.  (Lugg^ies  are  wooden  mugs  with  ear-shaped  handles. 
-J.  H.) 

+  1715,  when  the  Earl  of  Mar  headed  an  insurrection.  See  note  on  Sherramuir, 
at  Stanza  13. 

I  Sowens,  with  butter  instead  of  milk  to  them,  is  always  the  Halloween  Sup- 
per.—.^. B. 


jex.  27.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  153 

Syne^  wi'  a  social  glass  o'  striint^         then     spirits 
They  parted  aff  carccriu 

Fu'  blythe  that  night. 

[The  author's  own  notes  to  this  long  descriptive  poem  are  so 
complete,  that  we  require  to  add  very  little  to  the  information 
they  contain.  The  poet  has  selected,  as  the  scene  of  those  old 
customs  and  superstitious  ceremonies,  not  the  locality  of  his  riper 
years,  but  that  of  his  infancy  and  boyhood.  Both  in  Alloway  aud 
at  Mount  Oliphant,  he  lived  in  the  close  neighborhood  of  Colzean 
and  Cassilis  Downans.  (Many  of  the  ceremonies  appropriate  to 
Halloween  have  now  fallen  into  disuse.  Meetings  of  young  peo- 
ple still  take  place,  both  in  town  and  country ;  but  their  frolics 
are  usually  limited  to  ducking  for  apples  in  tubs  of  water,  burn- 
ing nuts,  the  lottery  of  the  "luggies,"  and  pulling  kale-stalks. 
-J.  H.) 

In  the  sixteenth  stanza,  the  mention  of  a  place  is  introduced, 
which  the  poet  names  "  Achmacalla."  We  believe  there  is  no 
such  locality  in  Carrick,  or  even  in  Ayrshire  ;  the  rhyme  required 
it,  and  the  name  was  coined  accordingly.  The  fourth  stanza  from 
the  close  of  the  poem  is  generally  quoted  as  the  finest  descriptive 
passage,  within  small  compass,  to  be  found  in  poesy.  Respecting 
this  production,  Mr.  Lockhart  says, — "Hallowe'en,  a  descriptive 
poem,  perhaps  even  more  exquisitely  wrought  than  the  '  Holy 
Fair,'  and  containing  nothing  that  could  offend  the  feelings  of 
anybody,  was  produced  about  the  same  period.  Burns'  art  had  now 
reached  its  climax."] 


TO  A  MOUSE, 

ON  TURNING   HER   UP   IN   HER   NEST  WITH   THE   PLOUGH 
NOVEMBER,    1785. 

(K11.MARNOCK   Ed.,    1786.) 

Wee,  sleeket^  cowrin^  tim'roiis  bcastie,    sieek  crouching 
O,  what  a  panic's  in  thy  breastie  ! 
Thou  need  na  start  awa  sae  hasty, 

Wi'     bicker  i it    brattle!  scurrying  scampct 

I  wad  be  laitJi  to  riii  an'  chase  thee,  loatb 

Wi'   niurdcTin'   pattle  !  * 


•An  implement  for  clearing  the  plow  of  clods,  etc.— J.  H. 


154  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

I'm  truly  sorry  man's  dominion, 
Has  broken  nature's  social  union, 
An'  justifies  that  ill  opinion, 

Which  makes  thee  startle 
At  me,  thy  poor  earth-born  companion, 

An'  fellow-mortal ! 

I  doubt  na,  w/iyles,  hut   thou  may  thieve :      onoc-) 

,  .  casions ' 

What  then?  poor  beastie,  thou  maim  live  !  must 
A  daimen  icker  in  a  thrave  *  twenty-four  sheaves 

'  S  a  sma'  request ;      '  smaii 

I'll  get  a  blessin  wi'  the  lave^  rest 

An'  never  miss't! 

Thy  wee  bit  housie^  \  too,  in  ruin  !         tiny  uttie  house 

It's  silly  wd' s  the  win'' s  are  strewin  !      waiis     winds 

An'  naething,  now,  to  big  a  new  ane^       buiid     one 

O'  fog ^ age  mreen  !  soft,  moss-iike  > 

y   <iA    d       &  ^  vegetation     > 

An'  bleak  December's  winds  ensuin, 

Baith  sncll  an'  keen  !  biting 

Thou  saw  the  fields  laid  bare  an'  waste. 

An'  weary  winter  comin  fast, 

An'  cozie  here,   beneath  the  blast,       snugiy  comfortable 

Thou  thought  to  dwell — 
Till  crash  !  the  cruel  coulter  past  ploughshare 

Out  thro'   thy  cell. 

That  wee  bit  heap  o'  leaves  an'  stibble^  stubbie 

Has  cost  thee  mony  a  weary  nibble  ! 
Now  thou's  turn'd  out,  for  a'   thy  trouble. 

But  house  or  hald^  without     hold 

To  thole  the  winter's  sleety  dribble,  endure 

An'  cra7ireuch  cauld!  hoar-frost  coid 

♦An  occasional  ear  in  a  large  shock. — J.  H. 

t  Note  here  the  extreme  felicity  of  the  piled-up  diminutives,  adjectival  and 
terminational.  The  ending  ie  is  the  common  Scotch  diminutive  ;  oc  or  ock  is  also 
common  in  Ayrshire,  as  Hug/ioc,  little  Hugh,  lassock,  a  little  lass.— J.  H. 


JSX.  27.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  155 

But  Mousie,   thou  art  no  l/iy  lane,  aione 

In  proving  foresight  may  be  vain  ; 
The  best-laid  schemes  o'  mice  an'  men 

Gang   aft   aglcy^^-  oft  miscarry 

An'  led'  e  us  nought  but  grief  and  pain,  leave 

For  promised  joy  ! 


Still  thou  art  blest,  compar'd  wi'  me  ! 

The  present  only  toucheth  thee  : 

But  och  !  I  backward  cast  my  <?'^,  eye 

On  prospects  drear  ! 
An'  forward,  tho'  I  canna  see, 

I  guess  an'  fear  ! 


[We  have  no  variations  to  note  here.  The  poem  seems  to  have 
issued  perfect  from  the  mint  of  the  author's  mind,  when  he  sud- 
denly stopped  the  ploughshare's  farther  progress  on  observing  the 
tiny  creature  escape  across  the  rig.  This  is  generally  regarded 
as  one  of  the  most  faultless  of  the  author's  productions,  and 
unmatched  even  by  the  "Mountain  Daisy"  in  originality  and 
interest.  "It  is  difficult  to  decide  (writes  Currie)  whether  this 
'  Address '  should  be  considered  as  serious  or  comic.  If  we  smile 
at  the  '  bickering  brattle '  of  this  little  flying  animal,  it  is  a  smile  of 
tenderness  and  pity.  The  descriptive  part  is  admirable ;  the  moral 
reflections  beautiful,  arising  directly  out  of  the  occasion  ;  and  in 
the  conclusion  there  is  a  deep  melancholy,  a  sentiment  of  doubt 
and  dread  that  rises  to  the  sublime."] 

(Burns  ploughed  with  four  horses,  and  required  a  "gadsnian"  to 
assist  in  driving,  while  he  held  the  plough.  John  Rlane,  who 
acted  as  "  gadsnian "  on  this  occasion.  Chambers  tells  us,  sur- 
vived Burns  sixty  years,  and  had  a  distinct  recollection  of  turn- 
ing up  the  mouse.  Boy-like,  he  ran  after  the  creature  to  kill 
it,  l)ut  was  checked  and  recalled  by  his  master,  who,  he  observed, 
became  thereafter  thoughtful  and  abstracted.  Burns  soon  after 
read    the    poem   to   Blane. — J.  II.) 


•Few,  If  any,  of  Bums'  iniinitahly  torse  and  pithy  .iphorisiiis  liavc  bci-ii  .";u 
ficqiiently  quoted  as  this.  l-"rau).;lit  with  wit  and  wisdom,  it  has  become  prover- 
bial wherever  the  IJuglish  language  is  known.— J.  II. 


156  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 


EPITAPH  ON  JOHN  DOVE,  INNKEEPER. 

(Stewart  and  meikle's  Tracts,  1799.) 

Here  lies  Johnie  Pigeon  ; 
What  was  his  religion 

Whaever  desires  to  ken^       whoever     know 
To  some  other  zvarV  world 

Maun  follow  the  carl^  must     feiiow 

For  here  Johnie  Pigeon  had  nane  !  none 

Strong  ale  was  ablution— ^ 
Small  beer — persecution, 

A  dram  was  ^'' memento  7nori P"* 
But  a  full-flowing  bowl 
Was  the  saving  his  soul, 

And  port  was  celestial  glory. 

[The  only  variation  to  be  noted  here  is  in  the  last  line  but 
one:  Chambers  has  "the  joy  of  his  soul  ;  "  but  the  change  is  no 
improvement,  whatever  the  authority  for  it.  John  Dove,  or  more 
familiarly,  "Johnie  Doo,"  was  mine  host  of  the  Whitefoord  Arms 
Inn  at  Mauchline,  in  the  main  street,  opposite  the  church,  at  the 
corner  of  a  cross  street,  named  Cowgate.  If  we  mistake  not,  he 
was  the  "Paisley  John"  of  another  poem  by  Burns,  which  would 
indicate  that  he  originally  hailed  from  that  town.  We  have  Gil- 
bert Burns'  authority  for  believing  that  the  poet  never  frequented 
public  houses  till  he  had  almost  formed  the  resolution  to  become 
an  author.  Certain  it  is,  before  the  close  of  the  year  1785,  Burns 
was  the  leading  member  of  a  bachelor's  club  of  a  very  odd 
character,  which  held  stated  meetings  at  the  "Whitefoord  Arms." 
It  was  a  kind  of  secret  association,  the  professed  object  of  which 
was  to  search  out,  report,  and  discuss  the  merits  and  demerits 
of  the  many  scandals  that  cropped  up  from  time  to  time  in  the 
village.  The  poet  was  made  perpetual  president ;  John  Richmond, 
a  clerk  with  Gavin  Hamilton,  writer,  was  appointed  "Clerk  of 
Court" — for  they  dignified  the  mock  solemnity  of  their  meetings 
by  adopting  judicial  styles  and  forms ; — James  Smith,  a  draper 
in  the  village,  was  named  "procurator  fiscal,"  and  to  William 
Hunter,  shoemaker — "weel  skill'd  in  dead  and  living  leather"— 
was  assigned  the  office  of  "  messenger-at-amis. "  Having  premised 
thus  much  concerning  this  club  of  rare  fellows,  we  refer  the  reader 
to  page  400  for  the  "Court  of  Equity."] 


^T.    27.] 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


157 


EPITAPH  FOR  JAMES  SMITH. 

(Stewart,  1801.) 

Lament  him,   Maiichline  husbands  a\ 

He  a/^en  did  assist  ye  ; 
For  had  ye  staid  kale  weeks  awa, 

Your  wives  they  ne''er  had  miss'd  ye. 


all 

often 
whole 
never 


Ye  Mauchline  bairns^  as  on  ye  press 
To  school  in  bands  thegither^ 

O  tread  ye  lightly  on  his  grass, — 
Perhaps  he  was  your  father  ! 


children 
together 


[In  the  above  lampoon  upon  "fiscal  Smith,"  and  libel  on  the 
matrons  of  Mauchline,  we  see  the  nature  of  the  "cases"  that 
were  usually  brought  before  the  solemn  ' '  Court ' '  assembled  in 
the  Whitefoord  Arms.  The  poet,  in  his  fine  "  Epistle  to 
J.  S.,"  describes  his  friend  as  of  ''■  scrimpet  stature,"  but  of  scanty 
manly   configuration   and  character.] 


ADAM  ARMOUR'S  PRAYER. 

(Hogg  and  Motherwell's  Eu.,  1834.) 

GunE  pity  me,'  because  I'm  little  ! 
For  though  I  am  an  elf  o'  mettle, 
An'   can,   like  ony  zvabstcr\^  shuttle. 

Jink  there  or  here, 
Yet,  scarce  as  lang'' s  a  gude  kail-zvhittlc^ 

I'm  unco  queer. 


G-d 

any  wcnver's 

move  nimbly 

tall. 

kak-kiiifc  ( 

uncommon 


An'   now  Thou  kens  our  wocfu'   case  ; 

For  Geordie's  "yw;';'"  we're  in  disgrace, joumrywoman 


158  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

Because  we  "stang'd"  *  her  through  the  place, 

An'  hurt  her  spleuchan  ;     p"'"J^°jJ"} 

For  whilk  we  daiirna  show  our  face    which     dare  not 
Within  the  clachaii.  village 


An'  now  we're  dernd  in  dens  and  hollows,    lying  hid 

And  hunted,  as  was  William  Wallace, 

Wi'  constables — thae  blackguard  fallows —         these 

An'  sodgers  baith  ;  soldiers  also 

But  Gude  preserve  us  frae  the  gallows,  from 

That  shamefu'  death  ! 

Auld  grim  black-bearded  Geordie's  seV  —  self 

O  shake  him  owre  the  mouth  o'  hell  !  over 

There  let  him  hing^  an'  roar,  an'  yell  hang 

Wi'  hideous  diii^  noise 
And  if  he  offers  to  rebel. 

Then  heave  him  in. 

When  Death  comes  in  wi'  glimmerin  blink^  glance 
An'  tips  auld  dntcken  Nanse\  the  wink,  drunken  Nancy 
May  Sautan  gie  her  doiip  a  clink    bottom     hasty  set-down 

Within  his  yett^  gate 

An  fill  her  up  wi'  brimstone  drink, 

Red-reekin  het.  hot 

Though y<?r/& an'  hav" rel ^^3.x\.X  are  merry — jj^if^ff^Jl 
Some  devil  seize  them  in  a  hurry. 
An'  waft  them  in  th'   infernal  wherry 

StraiigJit  through  the  lake,  straight 
An'  gie  their  hides  a  noble  curry  give 

Wi'  oil  of  aik  !  § 

*"  Riding  the  stang  "  was  a  kind  of  lynch    law,   executed  against    obnoxious 
persons,  by  carrying  them  shoulder-high  through  the  village  astride  a  rail. — J.  H 
•f  Geordie's  wife.  \  Geordie's  son  and  daughter. 

g  Curry  their  hides  with  an  oak-stick.— J.  H. 


«;t.  27.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  159 

As  for  the   "jurr" — piiir  worthless  body!  poor 

She's  got  mischief  enough  already  ; 

Wi'   stanget  hips,   and   buttocks  bluidy,      stang-riddeu 

She's  suffer' d  sair  ; 
But  may  she  wintle  in  a  woody,  * 

If  she  wh — e   mair  ! 

[This  very  free  production  was  first  printed  in  the  Edinburgh 
Magazine  of  January,  1808.  Although  the  poem  may  not  be 
entitled  to  rank  with  the  author's  higher  efforts  in  the  same 
style,  yet  few  readers  will  be  inclined  to  dispute  that  it  fairl> 
establishes  its  own  paternity.  It  is  certainly  one  of  a  group  of 
hasty  comic  eftusions  dashed  off  by  Burns  at  this  period  in  con- 
nection with  the  Whitefoord  Arms  conventions  already  spoken 
of  The  parents  of  Jean  Armour  lived  at  the  back  of  the  Inn  ; 
but  Adam  Armour,  who  is  the  subject  of  the  present  poem,  was 
m  no  way  related  to  her.  The  "  Geordie "  of  the  piece  was 
another  Mauchline  innkeeper,  whose  "jurr,"  or  female  servant, 
had  committed  some  sexual  error  that  caused  a  kind  of  "hue  and 
cry "  against  her  among  the  neighbors.  Thus  encouraged,  a  band 
of  reckless  young  fellows,  with  Adam  Armour  for  a  ringleader, 
"  rade  the  stang "  upon  the  poor  sinner.  Geordie,  who  sympa- 
thised with  his  "jurr,"  resented  this  lawless  outrage,  and  got 
criminal  proceedings  raised  against  the  perpetrators.  Adam  Armour, 
who  was  an  ill-madq  little  fellow  of  some  determination,  had  to 
abscond,  and  during  his  wanderings  he  happened  to  fall  in  with 
Burns,  who,  after  commiserating  the  little  outlaw,  conceived  the 
"Prayer"   here   put   into   his   lips.] 


THE  JOLIvY  BEGGARS  :   A  CANTATA. 

(Stewart  and   Mkiklk's  Tracts,  1799-) 

Recitativo. 

When  lyart  leaves  bestrew  iho:  yird^^\w\(ix^is.  earth 
Or  wavering  like  the  bauckie-bird,t 

Bedim  cauld  Boreas'  blast  ;  slanting  1 

When  hailstanes  drive  wi'  bitter  skytc^   stroke  / 


•  Wriggle  in  a  halter,  properly  in  a  halter  made  of  withes.— J.  H. 
t  The  old  Scotch  name  for  the  bat.— ^.  B. 


160  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

And  infant  frosts  begin  to  bite, 

In  hoary  cra^treuch  drest ;  hoar-frost 

Ae  night  at  e'en  a  merry  core  party 

O'  randie^  gangrel  bodies^      reckless  vagrant  folks 

In  Poosie-Nansie's  held  the  splore^  carousal 

To  drink  their  orra  duddies :        superflous  rags 

Wi'  quaffing  and  laughing, 

They  ranted  an'  they  sang,    frcUcked  noisily 
Wi'  jumping  an'   thumping, 
The  vera  girdle  *  rang. 

First,  niest  the  fire,  in  mdd  red  rags,   next     oia 
Ane  sat,  weel  brac'd  wi'  mealy  bags,t 

And  knapsack  a'  in  order  ; 
His  doxy  lay  within  his  arm  ;  mistress 

Wi'   7i5quebac  an'  blankets  warm  whisky 

She  blinket  on  her  sodger  :         looked  amorously 
An'  ay  he  gies  the  tozic  drab  fuddled 

The  tither  skelpin  kiss,  other  noisy 

While  she  held  up  her  greedy  gab^  mouth 

Just  like  an  aumous  dish  :  % 
Ilk  smack  still  did  crack  still, 
Just  like  a  cadger's  §  whip  ; 
Then  staggering  an'  swaggering, 
He  roar'd  this  ditty  up — 


*  A  circular  iron  plate  used  in  Scotland  for  baking  oat-meal  cakes  and  "  scones  " 
Dn  over  the  fire ;  a  griddle.  It  is  by  no  means  sonorous  ;  so  from  its  ringing  one 
may  judge  of  the  riotous  character  of  the  "splore." — J.  H. 

t  See  note  following. 

X  Alms-dish  :  the  Scottish  beggars  used  to  carry  a  large  wooden  dish  for  the 
reception  of  such  alms  as  they  received  in  the  form  of  cooked  food.  They  still 
more  commonly  carried  a  bag,  called  a  meal-poke,  to  contain  the  handfuls  of  oat- 
meal which  was  given  them  in  place  of  money.— J.  H. 

g  The  cadger  was  a  hawker,  who  travelled  the  country  with  a  horse  or  ass, 
carrying  two  panniers  loaded  with  merchandise.  The  term  came  to  be  applied 
to  any  one  who  drove  a  cart  regularly  for  hire ;   as,  a  coal-cadger. — ^J.  H. 


fl  oriv/  aii^U  \o  no2  b  me  I"— R^/.0.')MH  YJJOj,  lilll' 


And  infant  frn<' 

111  lioary  <  hoar-n 

Ae  uight  at 

caroufsal 
'  I  J    dnnk  sui)erflons  : 

'clicked  noisily 

Tiie  N  lang. 


•red  amoro'- 

fuddled 

'  her  iK)i:?v 


iS 

UlSii 

:;a 

crac 

IV       J 

-liJ, 

-\s  S 

wli 

ip; 

-I  cat  cakes  and 
from  its  rii 


large  wooden  di> 


THE  JOLLY  BEGGARS—"  I  am  a  son  of  Mars  who  have 
been  in  many  wars." 


^T.    27.] 


— L  r*       5    If*      '^      I  U^ — U—i: 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 
AIR. 


161 


1         am     a  son    of  Mars,  who  have    been  in  ma  -  ny  wars.  And  show  my  cuts 


and       scars      wher  -  ev  -  er  1     come ;  This  here    was  for     a  wench,  and  that 


oth  -  er     in     a  trench,  When  wel  -  com  -  ing  the  French  at    the   sound    of  the  drum. 


g:E^?^feSEgggE^r=ii=ife---^^-^-^ 


^=^1 


My      pren-tice-ship  I  past  where  my   lead -er  breathed  his  last,When  the  blood-y  die 


was  cast  on  the  heights  of    A-bram:    I    serv'd  out  my  trade  when  the  gal  -  lant  game 


*=fc 


!^ 


-tv— h — N — I V ^-pirlrrrjacr-^ 


=S=S= 


wasplay'd,  And  the         Mo  -  ro   low  was  laid      at       the     sound  of      the  drum:  I 


served    out  my  trade  when  the  gal  -  lant  game  was  play'd,  I  served  out  my  trade  when  the 


^^^^^^ 


gal  -  lant  game  was  play'd,  And  the  Mo  -  ro    low  was  laid     at    the  sound  of  the  drum. 


Tune. — "  Soldier's  Joy." 

I  am  a  son  of  Mars  who  have  been  in  many  wars, 
And  show  my  cnts  and  scars  wlierever  I  come ; 

This  here  was  for  a  wench,  and  that  other  in  a  trench, 
When  welcoming  the  French  at  the  sonnd  of  the  drum. 

Lai  de  dandle,   ike. 


162  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1785. 

My  prenticeship  I   past  where   my  leader   breath' d  his 
last, 
When    the  bloody  die  was  cast   on    the   heights    of 
Abram  :  * 
And    I   served   out   my  trade  when   the   gallant  game 
was  play'd, 
And   the   Morof  low  was    laid   at   the  sound  of  the 
drum. 

I  lastly  was  with  Curtis  among  the  floating  batt'ries,t 
And  there  I  left  for  witness  an  arm  and  a  limb  ; 

Yet   let    my    country  need    me,  with    Blliot§    to    lead 
me, 
I'd  clatter  on  my  stumps  at  the  sound  of  a  drum. 

And  now  tho'  I  must   beg,  with  a  wooden    arm    and 
leg, 
And  many  a  tatter' d  rag  hanging  over  my  bum, 
I'm   as   happy    with    my    wallet,    my   bottle    and    my 
callet^  trull 

As  when  I  used  in  scarlet  to  follow  a  drum. 

What  tho',  with  hoary  locks,  I  must  stand  the  winter 
shocks, 
Beneath    the    woods     and     rocks,  oftentimes    for    a 
home. 
When  the  tother   bag  I    sell,  |i    and   the  tother   bottle 
tell, 
I    could    meet  a   troop    of  hell,  at   the   sound   of  a 
drum. 


*  The  battle-ground  in  front  of  Quebec,  where  Wolfe  victoriously  fell  in  Sep- 
tember, 1759. 

t  El  Moro  was  the  castle  that  defended  the  harbor  of  Santiago,  a  small  island 
near  the  southern  coast  of  Cuba.  It  was  taken  by  the  British  in  1762,  after  which 
Havanna  surrendered. — J.  H. 

\  The  destruction  of  the  famous  Spanish  floating-  batteries,  during  the  famous 
siege  in  1782,  on  which  occasion  Captain  Curtis  signalized  himself 

g  G.  A.  Elliot  (I,ord  Heathfield),  who  defended  Gibraltar  during  a  siege  of  three 
years. 

I  Bag  of  oatmeal  collected  by  begging  and  sold  for  whisky. — J.  H. 


^3T.  27.] 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


1G3 


Recitativo. 

He  ended  ;  and  the  kebars  sheuk^  rafters  shook 

A  boon  the  chorus  roar  ;  above 
While  frightened  rations  backward  leuk^  rats     look 

An'  seek  the  bemnost  bore  :  innermost  hole 

A  fairy  fiddler  frae  the  neuk^  nook 

He  skirl' d  out,  encore  ! 

But  up  arose  the  martial  cJmck^  hen 

An'  laid  the  loud  uproar. 


AIR. 


Lively. 


ig^=|^i^^^^ 


g^P^^^^V^^^^^ 


I      once  was  a  maid,  though  I    can  -  not  tell  when.  And    still  my  de- light  is     in 


l^=3E|:£g3FEi^^^J?^£#=E#_E^ 


--V=i 


pro  -  per  young  men;  Someone    of     a    troop  of  dra  -  goons   was  my  dad  -  die.     No 


a        sod  -  ger  lad  -  die.      Sing        lal      de  dal,  &c. 


-• -•  m- 


=Ucit-:=t 


Tune. — "  Sodger  Laddie." 

I  once  was  a  maid,   tho'   I  cannot  tell  when. 
And  still  my  delight  is  in  proper  young  men  : 
Some  one  of  a  troop  of  dragoons  was  my  daddie, 
No  wonder  I'm  fond  of  a  sodgcr  laddie. 

Sing,   lal  dc  dal,   &c. 

The  first  of  my  loves  was  a  swaggering  ])lade. 
To  rattle  the  thundering  dnim  was  his  trade  ; 


164  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

His  leg  was  so  tight,  and  liis  cheek  was  so  ruddy, 
Transported  I  was  with  my  sodger  laddie. 

But  the  godly  old  chaplain  left  him  in  the  lurch  ; 
The  sword  I  forsook  for  the  sake  of  the  church  : 
He  ventur'd  the  soul,  and  I  risket  the  body,      nskee 
'Twas  then  I  prov'd  false  to  my  sodger  laddie. 

Full  soon  I  grew  sick  of  my  sanctified  sot, 
The  regiment  at  large  for  a  husband  I  got ; 
From  the  gilded  spontoon  to  the  fife  J  was  ready, 
I  asked  no  more  but  a  sodger  laddie. 

But  the  peace  it  reduc'd  me  to  beg  in  despair. 
Till  I  met  my  old  boy  in  a  Cunningham  *  fair  ; 
His  rags  regimental  they  flutter' d  so  gaudy. 
My  heart  it  rejoic'd  at  a  sodger  laddie. 

And  now  I  have  liv'd — I  know  not  how  long, 

And  still  I  can  join  in  a  cup  and  a  song  ; 

But  whilst  with    both   hands    I   can   hold  the   glass 

steady, 
Here's  to  thee,  my  hero,  my  sodger  laddie. 


Recitativo. 

[Poor  Merry-Andrew,  in  the  7ieuk^  comer 

Sat  guzzling  wi'  a  tinkler-hizzie ;  tinker  wench 

They  mind't  na  wha  the  chorus  teuk  took 

Between  themselves  they  were  sae  busy  : 
At  length,  wi'  drink  an'  courtin  dizzy. 

He  stoiter^  d  up  an'  made  a  face  ;  staggered 

Then  tum'd,  an'  laid  a  smack  on  Grizzie^  kiss    Grace 

Syne  tun'd  his  pipes  wi'  grave  grimace. 

•  Cunningham  fair  was  held  at  Stewarton,  near  Kilmarnock. 


^T.    27.] 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


1«5 


AIR. 


Lively. 


Sir     Wis-dom'sa  fool  when  he's  fou,      Sir  Knave     is     a   fool    in      a  ses-sion; 


ggg^^^lg^s^^^l 


He's     there  but    a  pren-tice,   I     trow.    But       I      am     a  fool    by  pro-fes-sion. 


^^iggigigig^i|=pgigi=iiggg=pigg^ 


My  gran -nie  she  bought  me  a  beuk,  And    I      held    a  -  wa    to    the  school;       I 


^^^^ 


-  lent    mis  -  teuk.  But     what  will     ye    hae      of      %    fool  ? 


fear      I     my       ta  -  lent    mis  -  teuk.  But     what  will     ye 


Tune — "  Auld  Sir  Symou." 

Sir  Wisdom's  a  fool  wlien  h^'s/ou;    fun  (dmnk) 
Sir  Knave  is  a  fool  in  a  session  ;  * 

He's  there  but  a  prentice  I  trow, 
But  I  am  a  fool  by  profession. 

My  grannie  she  bought  me  a  beuk^  *^'^''"'^b^"k} 

An'   I  held  awa  to  the  school  ; 

I  fear  I  my  talent  mistciik^  mistook 

But  what  will  ye  hac  of  a  fool  ?  have 


For  drink  I  would  venture  my  neck  ; 

A  hizzic' s  the    half  of  my  craft  ; 
But  what  could  ye  other  expect, 

Of  ane  that's  avowedly  daft? 


wcuch 


crazy 


I  ance  was  tyed  up  like  a  stirk^^      yearling steir 
For  civilly  swearing  and  quaffing  ; 


•  Apparently,  when  being  tried  for  some  offence. 

t  This  refers  to  the  punishment  of  the  "Jongs,"  an  iron  collar  padlocked  round 
a  culprit's  neck  in  a  public  lliorouglifarc. 


166 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


[1785. 


I  ance  was  abus'd  z'   the  kirk,  in 

For  touzlin^  a  lass  i'  my  dajfm.  ^     """piingj 

c>  J  jj  frolicsomeiiess  > 

Poor  Andrew  that  tumbles  for  sport, 

Let  naebody  name  wi'  a  jeer  ; 
There's  even,   I'm  tauld^  i'  the  Court  toM 

A  tumbler  ca'd  the  Premier, 


Observe' d  }'e  yon  reverend  lad 

i\Iak  faces  to  tickle  the  mob  ; 
He  rails  at  our  mountebank  scjuad, — 

It's  rivalship  just  i'  the  job. 

And  now  my  conclusion  I'll  tell, 
For  faith  I'm  confoundedly  dr>'  ; 

The  cliiel  that's  a  fool  for  himsel, 
Guid  L— d  !  he's  far  dafter  than  L] 

Recitativo. 

Then  niest  outspak  a  rauclc  carlin      stout  beldam 
Wha  kent  fu'  weel  to  deck  the  sterlin  ; ';^"^H 

'  {steal)  > 

For  mony  a  pursie  she  had  hooked. 

An'  had  in  mony  a  well  been  douked :    ducked 

Her  love  had  been  a  Highland  laddie, 

But  weary  fa'   the  waefu'   woodie ;       gibbet-haiter 

Wi'  sighs  an'  sobs  she  thus  began 

To  wail  her  braw  John  Highlandman.       brave 


AIR. 


Lively. 


A  High -land  lad    my    love  was  bom.  The  Lal-lan'  laws  he  held  in  scorn,    But  he 


still    was  faith  -  fu'        to    his    clan.    My       gal  -  lant    braw    John   High-land  man 


^r.  27.] 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


167 


Eil^£SE=^ 


Cho. — Sing,  hey    my  braw  John  High-land-man  !  Sing,  ho  my  braw  John  Hing-land-man  I 


There's  not    a      lad      in       a'     the   Ian',  Was  match  for  my  John  High-land-man. 


Tune. — "O  an  ye  were  dead,  Guidman." 

A  Highland  lad  my  love  was  born, 

The  lallaiid  laws  he  held  in  scorn  ;  lowiand 

But  he  still  was  faithfu'  to   his  clan, 

My  gallant,  braw  John  Highlandman. 

CJioriis. 

Sing  hey  my  braw  John  Highlandman  ! 
Sing  ho  my  braw  John  Highlandman  ! 
There's  not  a  lad  in  a'   the  Ian' 
Was  match  for  my  John  Highlandman. 


With  his  philibcg  an'   tartan  plaid. 
An'  guid  claymore  down  by  his  side, 
The  ladies'  hearts  he  did  trepan. 
My  gallant,  braw  John  Highlandman. 

Sing  hey,   &c. 

We  ranged  a'   from  Tweed  to  Spey,* 
An'  liv'd  like  lords  an'  ladies  gay  ; 
For  a  lallaiid  face  he  feared  none, — 
My  gallant,  braw  John  Highlandman. 

Sing  hey,   &c. 

They  banish' d  him  beyond  the  sea, 
But  ere  the  bud  was  on  the  tree, 
Adown  my  cheeks  the  pearls  ran. 
Embracing  my  John  Highlandman. 

Sing  hey,   &c. 


kilt 
broadsword 


lowland 


•  Tweed  separates  Scotland  from  England ;    Spey  is  a  river  in  Inverness-shir:. 
The  phrase  means  from  South  to  North  of  Scotland.— J.  H. 


168 


POEMS  AND   SONGS. 


L178S 


But,  ocli  !  they  catch' d  him  at  the  last, 
And  bound  him  in  a  dungeon  fast : 
My  curse  upon  them  every  one, 
They've  hanged  my  braw  John  Highlandman I 

Sing  hey,   &c. 

And  now  a  widow  I  must  mourn 
The  pleasures  that  will  ne'er  return  ; 
No  comfort  but  a  hearty  can, 
When  I  think  on  John  Highlandman. 

Sing  hey,  &:c. 


Recitativo. 

A  pigmy  scraper  wi'  his  fiddle,  ^^^tie  markets) 

Wha  us'd  at  trystes  an'  fairs  to  driddle^  piay> 

Her  strappin  limb  and  gaiisy  middle  buxom 

(He  reach' d  nae  higher) 
Had  holed  his  heartie  like  a  riddle. 

An'  blawn'tow  fire,    blown  u 


Wi'  hand  on  kaijich^  and  upward  e'e, 
He  crooii' d  his  gamut,  one,   two  three, 
Then  in  an  arioso  key, 

The  wee  Apollo 
Set  off  wi'  allegretto  glee 

His  giga  solo. 


haunch 
hummed 


AIR. 


Slow. 


Let    me     ryks  up    to  dight   that  tear,  And     go       wi'  me      and  be        my  dear. 


And  then  your    ev  -  ry       care    and  fear.  May  whis  -  tie      owre     tfiA    lavft     s)'». 


^E?T.    27.] 


POEMS   AND  SONGS. 


169 


^^^^^ 


Cho 


fid-dler     to      my  trade.  And 


the  tunes  that  e'er    I  played, 


S=r 


^^^^^^^^^^^^ 


The  sweet -est  still      to    wife      or    maid.  Was  whis-tle   owre    the   lave     o't 

Tune — "Whistle  owre   the   lave   o't." 

Let  me  ryke  up  to  dight  that  tear    reach     wipe 
An'  go  wi'   iiie  an'  be  my  dear  ; 
An'   then  your  every  care  an'   fear 

May  whistle  owre  the  lave  <?'/.*  rest  of  u 

Chorus. 
I  am  a  fiddler  to  my  trade, 
An'  a'  the  tunes  that  e'er  I  play'd, 
The  sweetest  still  to  wife  or  maid, 
Was  whistle  owre  the  lave  o't. 

At  kirns  an'  weddins  we' se  be  there  harvest-homes. 

we  shall  j 

An'   O  sae  nicely' s  we  will  fare  ! 
We'll  boivse  about  till  Daddie  Care  carouse 

Sing  whistle  owre  the  lave  o't. 
I  am,   &c. 

Sae  merrily' s  the  banes  we'll  Pyke^    bones     pick 
An'  sun  oursells  about  the  dyke  ;  earth  or  stoue  fence 
An'  at  our  leisure,  when  ye  like. 
We'll  whistle  owre  the  lave  o't. 
I  am,   &c. 

But  bless  me  wi'  your  heav'n  o'  charms, 
An'  while  I  kittle  hair  on  thairms,t 
Hunger,   cauld^  an'  a'  sic  harms,  cold 

May  whistle  owre  the  lave  o't. 
I  am,   &c. 


•  A  popular  Scotch  air.     His  meaning  is  :  grant  my  prayer,  and  then  you  ca« 
regard  all  else  with  indifference. — J.  H. 
t  Tickle  the  horse-hair  of  the  bow  on  catgut. 


170 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


(7785- 


Recitativo. 

Her  charms  had  struck  a  sturdy  caird,* 

As  weel  as  poor  «-ut-scraper  ; 
He  taks  the  fiddler  by  the  beard, 

An'  draws  a  roosty  rapier —  mstj 

He  szuoor  by  a'  was  swearing  worth,         swore   aii 

To  speet  him  like  a  pliver^  plover  for  roasting 

Unless  he  would  from  that  time  forth 

Relinquish  her  for  ever. 


eye 
haunches 


Wi'  ghastly  <?V,  poor  tweedle-dee  ^ 

Upon  his  hunkers  bended 
An'  pray'd  for  grace  wi'  ruefu'  face, 

An'  so  the  quarrel  ended. 
But  tho'  his  little  heart  did  grieve 

When  round  the  tinkler  prest  her. 
He  feign' d  to  snirtle  in  his  sleeve,        laugh  furtively 

When  thus  the  caird  address' d  her : 


AIR. 


Lively. 


^^Ib^^g^^g^^^^^^=^---g^^ 


My     bon  -  nie    lass,      I      work    in    brass,    A      link  -  ler      is      my    sta  -  tion. 


S^- 


3S^C3f=^^F^^ 


I've     travelled    round   all    Christian  ground  In    this     my     oc  -  cu  -  pa  -  tion; 


i 


=* — wt — p> — ^Z  - — 


'^^i^^- 


^ — t* — ^- 


I've    ta'en  the    gold,  I've    been  en -rolled    In    many    a       no  -  ble  squad -ron; 


-* ^ f^T "^      \^  Si  ^' 

But    vain  they  searched,  when  oflf  I  marched  To       go    and    clout     the  caul  -  dron. 


*  Cairds  were  travelling  tinkers   or  horn  spoon-makers,  and  generally  gipsie* 
and  thieves. — ^J,  H. 


«T.  27 J  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  171 

Tuf^e—"  Clout  the  Cauldron." 

My  bonie  lass,   I  work  in  brass, 

A  tinkler  is  my  station  ; 
I've  travel' d  round  all  Christian  ground 

In  this  my  occupation  ; 
I've  /aen  the  gold,  an'  been  enrolled  taken 

In  many  a  noble  squadron  ;  * 
But  vain  they  search' d  when  off  I  march' d 

To  go  an'  dou^  the  cauldron.  patch 

I've  taen  the  gold,   &c. 

Despise  that  shrimp,   that  wither' d  imp. 

With  a'  his  noise  an'   cap'rin  ; 
An'  take  a  share  with  those  that  bear 

The  budget  and  the  apron  !  tooi-bag 

And  by  that  stoivp!  my  faith  an'  houp  flagon     hope 

And  by  that  dear  Kilbagie,t 
If  e'er  ye  want,  or  meet  wi'  scanty      short  commons 

May  I  ne'er  weet  my  craigie.  throat 

And  by  that  stowp,   &c. 

Recitativo. 

The  caird  prevail' d — tli'  unblushing  fair 

In  his  embraces  sunk  ; 
Partly  wi'  love  o'ercome  sae  sair^  sosor? 

An'  partly  she  was  drunk  : 
Sir  Violino,  with  an  air 

That  show'd  a  man  o'  spunky  mettle 

Wish'd  unison  between  the  pair, 

An'  made  the  bottle  clunk  % 

To  their  health  that  night. 


*  He  was  a  bounty-jumper. — J.  II. 

t  A  peculiar  sort   of   whisky  so    called,   a   great   favorite   with    Toosie   Nansie'j 
clubs. — R.  B.     So  named  from  Kilbagie  distillery,  in  Clackniannan-shire. 
X  Ouomatopoetic,  for  the  gurgling  sound  made  in  pouring  out  liquor. — J.  H. 


172 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


[1785. 


But  hurchin  Cupid  shot  a  shaft, 

That  play'd  a  dame  a  shavie — 
The  fiddler  rak'd  her,  fore  and  aft, 

Beliiut  the  chicken  cavie. 
Her  lord,  a  wight  of  Homer's  craft,* 

Tho'  limpin  wi'   the  spavie^ 
He  hirpr  d  up,   an'  lap  like  daft     iimped 

An'  j^<?r'<af  them  Dainty  Davie  f 
(9'  boot  that  night. 


urchin 
trick 

hen  coop 

spavin 

as  if  crazy 

sang 

to  boot 


He  was  a  care-defying  blade  ^ 

As  ever  Bacchus  listed  ! 
Tho'   Fortune  sair  upon  him  laid 

His  heart,  she  ever  miss'd  it. 
He  had  no  wish  but — to  be  glad. 

Nor  want  but — when  he  thristed  ; 
He  hated  nought  but — to  be  sad. 

An'   thus  the  muse  suggested 

His  sang  that  night. 


AIR. 


Slow. 


yiSj^ig^!:^'czg:ElfejE£EE^ 


I        am        a  bard     of      no      re  -  gard  Wi'     gen  -  tie  folks  and     a'      that ; 


^—^ 


^ 


^^^ 


~B      W-- 


:=f5^ 


But         Homer  -  like,     the     glow-rin'  byke,  Frae  town      to   town      I    draw     that. 


Cho.— For        a'         that,  and         a'        that.   And   twice        as      muc-kle's 


that. 


W^^^^s^ 


I've    lost     but  ane,    I've    twa     be-hin',     I've     wife     e-nough        for      a'      that 


*  Homer  is  allowed  to  be  the  oldest  ballad-singer  on  record. — R.  B. 
\K  popular  Scotch  air  and  song. 


^T.  27.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  173 


Tune. — "For  a'  that,  au'  a'  that." 

I  am  a  Bard  of  no  regard, 
Wi'  gentle  folks  an'  a'  that ; 

But  Homer-like,  \\\^  glowri}ibykc^sx.?ix\n^  throng 
Frae  town  to  town  I  draw  that.  from 

Chorus. 

For  a'  that  an'  a'   that. 

An'  twice  as  muckle' s  a'   that ;      much 
I've  lost  but  ane,   I've  twa  behin', 

I've  wife  eneugh  for  a'  that. 

I  never  drank  the  Muses'  stank ^  pool  or  fountain 
Castalia's  burn,  an'  a'   that  : 

But  there  it  streams  an'  richly  reams. 
My  Helicon  I  ca'   that* 

For  a'   that,   &c. 

Great  love  I  bear  to  a'  the  fair. 
Their  humble  slave  an'  a'   that ; 

But  lordly  will,   I  hold  it  still 

A  mortal  sin  to  thraw  that.  thwart 

For  a'   that,   &c. 

In  raptures  sweet,  this  hour  we  meet, 

Wi'   mutual  love  and'  a'   that ; 
But  for  how  lang  the  flie  may  stanz    ^^"^^  } 

.     ^  -^  -^  *    may  last  J 

Let  inclination  law  that. 

For  a'   that,  &c. 

Their  tricks  an'  craft  hae  put  me  daft^      crazy 
They've  taeti  me  in,  an'  a'  that ;         taken 

Bu£  clear  your  decks,  an'  here's  the  Sex  ! 
I  like  the  jads  for  a'   that.  jades 

*  We   must   here  imagine  the  singer  to  pour  out  his  beer  with  jovial  abandon. 
-J.  H. 


174 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


[1785. 


For  a'  that  an'  a'  that, 

An'  twice  as  miickle's  a'  that  ; 

My  dearest  bluid,   to  do  them  guid, 
They're  welcome  till't  for  a'  that. 

Recitativo. 
So  sung  the  bard — and  Nansies  zvd's 
Shook  with  a  thunder  of  applause, 

Re-echo' d  from  each  mouth  ! 
They  toom'd  their  pocks,*  they  pawn'd   their 


walls 


duds 


They  scarcely  left  to  coor  their  fuds^\ 

To  quench  their  lowin  drouth  : 
Then  ozure  again^  the  jovial  tlirang 

The  poet  did  request 
To  lowse  his  pack  an'   wale  a  sang;        loose 
A  ballad  o'  the  best  : 
He  rising,  rejoicing, 

Between  his  twa  Deborahs, 
Looks  round  him,  an'   found  them 
Impatient  for  the  chorus. 


rags  of  clothing 
cover    hips 
flaming 


once  more 


choose 


AIR. 


Lively. 


^^i^s=eES 


5=p= 


See      the    smok  -  ing    bowl    be  -  fore      us,     mark    our     jov  -  ial    rag  -  ged  ring ! 


-^-^^ ^_^=j±=:pz=;Ji 


Round  and   round  take    up      the      cho  -  rus.     And      in      rap-tures   let       us     sing, 


?^ 


=F^ff:: 


^S5 


^i^^^EUi^Si 


Cho.— A      fig      for     those,  a    fig     for     those  by  law  pro-tect-ed!      Liber-ty's  a  glor-ious 
feast,       li  -  bar  -  ty's   a    glor-i-ous  feast !  Courts  for    cowards  were   e-rect-ed,  Churches 


353r55~ 


?3t2=:t2i 


I^E 


^^ 


built      to  please  the  -priest,    chur-ches  built,  chur  -  ches   built  to  please  the  priest. 


*  Emptied  their  meal-bags  for  drink. — J.  H. 


<ET.  27.]  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  175 

Tunc. — "Jolly  Mortals  fill  your  Glasses." 

See  the  smoking  bowl  before  us, 

Mark  our  jovial,  ragged  ring  ! 
Round  and  round  take  up  the  chorus, 

And  in  raptures  let  us  sing — 

Chorus. 

A  fig  for  those  by  law  protected  ! 

Iviberty's  a  glorious  feast  1 
Courts  for  cowards  were  erected, 

Churches  built  to  please  the  priest. 

What  is  title,  what  is  treasure. 

What  is  reputation's  care? 
If  we  lead  a  life  of  pleasure, 

'Tis  no  matter  how  or  where  ! 
A  fig  for,   &c. 

With  the  ready  trick   and  fable, 

Round  we  wander  all  the  day  ; 
And  at  night,   in  barn  or   stable, 

Hug  our  doxies  on  the  hay.  sweetheaxte 

A  fig  for,   &c. 

Does  the  train-attended  carriage 

Thro'  the  country  lighter  rove  ? 
Does  the  sober  bed  of  marriage 

Witness  brighter  scenes  of  love  ? 
A  fig  for,  &c. 

Life  is  all  a  variorum, 

We  regard  not  how  it  goes  ; 
Let  them  cant  about  decorum. 

Who  have  character  to  lose. 

A  fig  for,   &c. 

Here's  to  budgets,  bags  and  wallets  ! 
Here's  to  all  the  wandering  train, 


176  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [1785. 

Here's  our  ragged  brats  and  callets^  children     tmiis 
One  and  all  cry  out,  Amen  ! 

Chorus. 

A  fig  for  those  by  law  protected  ! 

Liberty's  a  glorious  feast  ! 
Courts  for  cowards  were  erected, 

Churches  built  to  please  the  priest. 

[That  this  extraordinary  work  of  minstrel-art  was  composed 
before  the  close  of  1785,  is  evident  from  John  Richmond's  account 
of  it  furnished  to  Robert  Chambers.  One  night  after  a  meeting 
held  at  John  Dow's,  the  poet,  in  the  company  \i  James  Smith 
and  Richmond,  ventured  into  a  very  noisy  assemblage  of  vagrants, 
who  were  making  merry  in  a  "hedge  alehouse,"  kept  by  a  Mrs. 
Gibson,  known  by  the  sobriquet  of  "Poosie"  or  "  Poosie  Nancy." 
After  witnessing  a  little  of  the  rough  jollity  there,  the  three 
young  men  left ;  and  in  the  course  of  a  few  days.  Burns  recited 
a  part  of  the  poem  to  Richmond,  who  reported  that,  to  the  best 
of  his  recollection,  it  contained  songs  by  a  Srveep  and  by  a  Sailor, 
which  do  not  appear  in  the  finished  cantata.  About  Martinmas, 
1785,  Richmond  removed  to  Edinburgh,  taking  with  him  a  portion 
of  the  cantata,  which  the  poet  had  presented  to  him, — namely, 
that  part  which  we  have  marked  off  wnth  brackets. 

The  "Jolly  Beggars"  was  first  published  in  Stewart  and  Meikle's 
Tracts,  1799,  without  the  portion  which  had  thus  been  given  to 
Richmond.  It  was  republished  by  Thomas  Stewart,  of  Glasgow, 
in  1801,  and  again  in  1802,  embracing  the  rccitativo  and  song 
of  "Merry  Andrew,"  which  had  in  the  meantime  been  supplied 
by  Richmond.  The  manuscript  thus  completed  was  published  in 
fac-simile  by  Lumsden,  of  Glasgow,  in  1823,  with  consent  of  Stewart, 
who  was  then  the  owner  of  it.  The  preface  to  that  facsimile 
contains  the  following  statement:  "The  manuscript  was  given  by 
the  poet  himself  to  Mr.  David  Woodburn,  at  that  time  factor  to 
Mr.  M'Adam,  of  Craigengillan,  and  by  Mr.  Woodburn  to  Mr.  Robert 
M'Limont,  merchant  in  Glasgow,  from  whom  it  passed  into  the 
possession  of  Mr.  Smith,  of  Greenock,  who  gave  it  to  the  present 
possessor." 

The  original  MS.  is  now  (1876)  the  property  of  Mr.  Gilbert  Bums, 
of  Knockmaroou  Lodge,  County  Dublin,  nephew  of  the  poet,  who 
purchased  it  (along  with  some  other  manuscripts)  for  fifty  guineas. 
On  the  fly-leaf  of  the  bound  volume  is  a  memorandum  by  a 
daughter  of  Mr.  Stewart,  residing  in  the  Azores,  stating  that  her 
father's  uncle,  Mr.  Richmond,  the  poet's  early  friend,  gave  Mr. 
Stewart   the    MS.     On    another    leaf  is   written — "This   manuscript 


/P.r.  27.3  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  177 

belongs  to  David  Crichton,  junior,  Pictou,  Nova  Scotia,  North 
America.  Purchased  at  Terceiva,  one  of  the  Azores,  or  Western 
Islands,   13th  January,   1845." 

From  the  foregoing  account,  it  would  appear  that,  while  Wood- 
Durn,  in  1786,  obtained  possession  of  the  main  poem,  a  small  por- 
tion of  it,  which  is  really  inferior  in  quality  to  the  rest,  seems  to 
have  been  purposely  omitted  by  the  author,  when  he  stitched  uo 
the  manuscript  and  handed  it  to  Woodburn.  That  rejected  part 
had  been  given  to  Richmond,  who,  in  1801,  presented  it  to  his 
nephew,  Mr.  Stewart,  to  complete  the  cantata  which  that  gentle- 
man had  obtained  from  Mr.  Smith,  of  Greenock.  (Naturally,  in 
Mr.  Stewart's  family,  there  would  be  more  talk  of  the  present 
made  to  him  by  his  uncle  than  of  that  by  Mr.  Smith,  and  Mr. 
vStewart's  daughter  might  easily  have  believed  the  whole  MS. 
came  from  her  grand-uncle.— J.  H.)  That  this  is  the  correct  way 
of  reconciling  any  apparent  discrepancies  in  stating  the  pedigree 
of  this  unique  manuscript,  is  manifest  on  examining  the  original  : 
the  long  dismembered  portion  is  written  on  one  sheet,  in  a  larger 
character,  in  a  different  tint  of  ink,  and  apparently  on  a  different 
quality  of  paper. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  Cromek  (who,  in  1810,  published  a 
copy  of  the  Jolly  Beggars  from  the  original  MS.,  lent  by  Mr. 
Stewart  for  the  purpose),  having  heard  from  Mr.  Richmond  that 
a  Sailor  had  originally  formed  one  of  the  persons  in  the  poet's 
drama,  actually  took  upon  him  to  introduce  a  Sailor,  at  that  part 
of  the  last  rccitativo  but  one,  where  the  Fiddler  relieves  the  Bard 
%il  one  of  his  Deborahs,  thus, — 


"  But  hurchin  Cupid  shot  a  shaft, 
That  play'd  a  dame  a  shavie  ; 
A  Sailor  raked  her  fore  and  afl,"  &c. 


"romek  used  other  liberties  with  the  text  which  we  need  not 
*'->rther  refer  to  ;  but  the  public  is  now  put  in  possession  of  the 
whole  history  of  this  wonderful  poem.] 


SONG— FOR  A'  THAT. 

(Johnson's  Museum,  1790.) 

Tho'  women's  minds,  like  winter  winds, 
May  shift,  and  turn,  an'  a'  that, 

The  noblest  breast  adores  them  maist — 
A  consequence  I  draw  that. 


1 78  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [1785. 

Chor. — For  a'   that  an'  a'   that, 

And  twice  as  meikle^sa:  that;  much 

The  bonie  lass  that  I  loe  best  love 

She'll  be  my  ain  for  a'  that  own 

Great  love  I  bear  to  a'  the  fair, 

Their  humble  slave,  an'  a'  that; 
But  lordly  will,   I  hold  it  still 

A  mortal  sin  to  thraiv  that.  tnwan 

For  a'  that,  &:c. 


But  there  is  ane  aboo7i  the  lave^ 
Has  wit,  and  sense,  an'  a'   that  ; 

A  bonie  lass,   I  like  her  best, 
And  wha  a  crime  dare  cd*  that? 
For  a'  that,  &c. 


above       rest 


call 


In  rapture  sweet  this  hour  we  meet, 
Wi'  mutual  love  an'  a'  that. 

But  for  how  lang  the  fiie  may  stang^ 
Let  inclination  law  that. 

For  a'  that,   &:c. 


♦"aacv  niav  last 


Their  tricks  an'  craft  hae  put  me  daft,  have 

They've  taen  ')ne  in  an'  a'   that;  deceived  me 

But  clear  your  decks,  and — here's  'The  sex!' 
I  like  the  jads  for  a'   that.  hussies 

For  a'  that,  &c. 


[This  composition  is  an  altered  version  of  the  Bard's  first  song 
in  the  "Jolly  Beggars."  The  first  and  third  stanzas  here  given 
are  wanting  in  the  other  version,  and  the  two  opening  stanzas 
of  the  song  in  the  Jolly  Beggars  are  here  omitted.  Verse  third 
of  the  text  first  appeared  in  Pickering's  ed.,  1839.  We  shall  next 
proceed  to  give  what  seems  to  have  been  the  poet's  first  intention 
as  a  song  for  the  "sturdy  caird "  in  the  same  cantata,  and  with- 
drawn in   favor  of  that  already  given,  j 


^T.  27.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  179 


SONG— KISSIN  MY  KATIE. 

(Johnson's  Museum,  1790.) 
Tune — "The  bob  o'  Dumblane." 
O  MERRY  hae  I  been  teethin  a  heckle,  ^^vei 

.  1  T  1  1  •  flax-dressers'  comb  > 

An'  merry  hae  1  been  shapm  a  spoon  ; 
O  merry  hae  I  been  chmtiii  a  kettle,  mending 

An'   kissin  my  Katie  when  a'  was  done.* 
O  a'  the  lang  day  I  ca'  at  my  hammer,  aii  day  long     drive 

An'  a'  the  lang  day  I  whistle  and  sing  ; 
O  a'  the  lang  night  I  cuddle  my  kimmer,    fondle     gin 

An'  a'  the  lang  night  as  happy 's  a  king. 


Bitter  in  dool  I  lickit  my  winnins  earnings} 

O'  marrying  Bess,   to  gie  her  a  slave  :  f 
Blest  be  the  hour  she  cooP d  in  her  linnens,        shroud/ 

And  blythe  be  the  bird  that  sings  on  her  grave  !  merry 
Come  to  my  arms,  my  Katie,   my  Katie  ; 

O  come  to  my  arms  and  kiss  me  again  ! 
Driicken  or  sober,  here's  to  thee  Katie  :  dmnk 

An'  blest  be  the  day  I  did  it  again. 


[The  operations  described  in  the  first  stanza  are  all  those  of 
the  tinker.  It  is  supposed  that  this  song  was  intended  to  be 
made  use  of  in  the  "Jolly  Beggars,"  and  was  afterwards  thrown 
aside  for  the  more  suitable  one  put  into  the  caird's  lips — "My 
bonie   lass,    I   work   in  brass."] 


*  We  have  here  a  terse  vidimus  of  the  different  occupations  of  a  travelling 
caird.  He  replaces  teeth  in  a  flax-  dresser's  comb  ;  he  makes  spoons  from  rams' 
and  cows'  horns  ;  he  tinkers  dilapidated  kettles  and  other  metal  vessels  ;  and  in 
the  evening  gives  himself  up  to  sensual  pleasure. — J.  H. 

t  In  bitter  sorrow  I  expiated  my  folly  in  marrying  Bess,  and  thus  becoming 
her  slave. — J.  H. 


180  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  [1785. 


THE  COTTER'S  SATURDAY  NIGHT. 

INSCRIBED  TO   R.    AIKEN,    ESQ. 
[Kilmarnock  Ed.,   1786.] 

"Let  not  Ambition  mock  their  useful  toil, 
Their  homely  joys,  and  destiny  obscure; 
Nor  Grandeur  hear,  with  a  disdainful  smile, 
The  short  and  simple  annals  of  the  poor." 

Grat. 

My  lov'd  my  lionorM,  much  respected  friend! 

No  mercenary  bard  his  homage  pays  ; 
With  honest  pride,   I  scorn  each  selfish  ^nd, 

My  dearest  meed,  a  friend's  esteem  and  praise  : 

To  you  I  sing,  in  simple  Scottish  lays, 
The  lowly  train  in  life's  sequester' d  scene  ; 

The  native  feelings  strong,   the  guileless  ways  ; 
What  Aiken  in  a  cottage  would  have  been  ; 
Ah  !     tho'    his    worth    unknown,  far    happier  there    1 
ween  ! 

November  chill  blaws  loud  wi'  angr}^  siigh  ;  sighing  sound 
The  short' ning  winter-day  is  near  a  close  ; 

The  miry  beasts  retreating  frae  the  picitgh;  plough 

The  black' ning  trains  o'  crazes  to  their  repose  :  crows 
The  toil-worn  Cotter  frae  his  labor  goes, —  from 

This  night  his  weekly  7)ioil  is  at  an  end,  drudgery 

Collects  his  spades,  his  mattocks,  and  his  hoes, 

Hoping  the  mom  in  ease  and  rest  to  spend, 

And  weary,  o'er  the  moor,  his  course  does  hameward 
bend. 

At  length  his  lonely  cot  appears  in  view. 

Beneath  the  shelter  of  an  aged  tree  : 
Th^  expectant  wee-things^  toddlin^  stacker  children  tottering  1 
through  ^'"^s"^       ^ 

To  meet  their  '  dad, '  wi'  flichtei'hi'  noise         fluttering 
and  srlee. 


^T.  27.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  181 

fire  glancing} 

His  wee  bit  iitgle^   blinkin  bonilie^  cbeerfuuy    / 

His  clean  hearth-stane,  his  thrifty  wifie's  smile. 

The  lisping  infant,  prattling  on  his  knee, 
Does  a'  his  weary  kiaugh  and  care^  beguile,    carking  anxiety 
And  makes  him  quite  forget  his  labor  and  his  toil. 

Belyve^  the  elder  bairns  come  drapping  in,  by  and  by 

At  service   out,  amang  the  fanners  roiui;  around 

Some  CO'  the  pleugh,  some  herd,  some  tentie  rin        ^rxw^X 

^  ..  attentively) 

A  canine  errand  to  a  neibor  town  :  easy 

Their  eldest  hope,  their  Jenny ^  woman-grown,  janet 

In  youthfu'  bloom — love  sparkling  in  her  e''  e  eye 

Comes  hame  ;  perhaps,  to  shew  a  braw  new  fine 

gown. 

Or  deposite  her  sair-^oxL  penny-fee^                  hard  wages 

To  help  her  parents  dear,  if  they  in  hardship  be. 

With  joy  unfeign'd,  brothers  and  sisters  meet, 

And  each  for  other's  welfare  kindly  spiers:      enquires 

The  social  hours,  swift-winged,  unnotic'd  fleet  ; 

Each  tells  the  ujtcos  that  he  sees  or  hears,  strange  things 
The  parents,  partial,  eye  their  hopeful  years ; 

Anticipation  forward  points  the  view  ; 

The  mother,  wi'  her  needle  and  her  sheers^       scissors 

Gars  auld  claes  look  amaist  as  weel's  the  makes     clothes  ^ 
new  ;  ^^'^'^^'^ 

The  father  mixes  a'  wi'  admonition  due. 

Their  master's  and  their  mistress's  command, 

The  younkers  a'  are  warned  to  obey  ;  youngsters 

And  mind  their  labors  wi'  an  eydent  hand,  diugent 

And  ne'er,  tho'  out  o'  sight,  to  j'aitk  or  play  ;      loaf 
' '  And  O  !  be  sure  to  fear  the  lyord  alway, 

And  mind  your  duty,  duly,  mom  and  night  ; 

Lest  in  temptation's  path  ye  gang  astray,  go 

Implore  His  counsel  and  assisting  might  : 

They    never    sought    in    vain    that   sought    the    I/ord 
aright. ' ' 


182  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1785. 

But  hark  !   a  rap  comes  gently  to  the  door  ; 

Jenny,  wha  kens  the  meaning  d'  the  same,  knows     of 
Tells  how  a  neibor  lad  came  o'er  the  moor. 

To  do  some  errands,  and  convoy  her  hame. 

The  wily  mother  sees  the  conscious  flame 
Sparkle  in  Jenny's  ^'^,  and  flush  her  cheek  ;  eye 

With  heart-struck  anxious  care,  enquires   his   name, 
While  Jenny  hafflins  is  afraid  to  speak  ;  half 

Weel-pleas'd    the  mother   hears,    it's    nae   wild, 
worthless  rake. 

Wi'  kindly  welcome,  Jenny  brings  him^<5^«,*  in 

A  strappin'  youth,  he  takes  the  mother's  eye  ; 

.5/j/^^^  Jenny  sees  the  visit's  no  ill  to' oi ;  z\&a.  taken  amiss 
The  father  cracks  of  horses,  pieughs^  and  chats    ploughs 

kyC.  cows 

The  youngster's  artless  heart  o'erflows  wi'  joy, 
But /5/«/(? an'  laithfu\  scarce  can  weel  behave;  bashful    timid 

The  mother,  wi'  a  woman's  wiles,   can  spy 
What  makes  the  youth  sae  bashfu'  and  sae  grave  ; 
Weel-pleas'd  to  think  her  bainC s  respected  like      child 

the   luve.  others  of  her  sex 

O  happy  love  !  where  love  like  this  is  found  : 
O  heart-felt  rap  cures  !  bliss  beyond  compare  ! 

I've  paced  much  this  weary,  mortal  round. 
And  sage  experience  bids  me  this  declare, — 
' '  If  Heaven  a  draught  of  heavenly  pleasure  spare — 

One  cordial  in  this  melancholy  vale, 

'Tis  when  a  youthful,  loving,  modest  pair 

In  other's  arms,  breathe  out  the  tender  tale, 

Beneath  the  milk-white  thorn  that  scents  the  evening 
gale.f" 


♦See  p.  47. 

t "  If  anything  on  earth  deserves  the  name  of  rapture  or  transport,  it  is  the 
feeling  of  green  eighteen  in  the  company  of  the  mistress  of  his  heart,  when  she 
repays  him  with  an  equal  return  of  affection." — Common-place  Book,  April,  1783. 


.^T.  27.]  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  183 

Is  there,  in  human  form,   that  bears  a  heart, 

A  wretch  !  a  villain  !  lost  to  love  and  truth  ! 
That  can,  with  studied,  sly,  ensnaring  art. 

Betray  sweet  Jenny's  unsuspecting  youth? 

Curse  on  his  perjur'd  arts  !  dissembling,  smooth  ! 
Are  honor,  virtue,  conscience,  all  exil'd? 

Is  there  no  pity,  no  relenting  ruth, 
Points  to  the  parents  fondling  o'er  their  child? 
Then   paints   the   ruin'd   maid,    and    their   distraction 
wild? 

But  now  the  supper  crowns  their  simple  board, 

The  hale  some  par ritch^  chief  of  Scotia's  wholesome  oatmeai) 

food  ;  porridge  i 

The  sowpe*  their  only  hawkie  does  afford,  cow 

That,  ''yoiit  the  hallan  snugly  chows  her  beyond  partition 
cood :  cud 

The  dame  brings  forth,  in  complimental  mood, 

To  grace  the  lad,  her  zveel-hain''  d  kebbuck  carefully  saved,  ^ 

r  jj  .  pungent  cheese  ) 

And  aft  he's  prest,  and  aft  he  cd' s  it  guid  :  caiis 

The  frugal  wifie,  garrulous,  will   tell 
How  'twas  a  towmond  auld,  sin'  lint  was  i'  the  bell,  f 

The  cheerfu'  supper  done,  wi^  serious  face,  with 

They,  round  the  ingle^  form  a  circle  wide  ;       fireside 
The  sire  turns  o'er  with  patriarchal  grace, 

The  big  ^«' -<5'?'(!^/£',  J  «;zf<?  his  father's  pride  :ha.ii-bibie  once 

His  bonnet  rev'rently  is  laid  aside, 
His  lyart  haffets  wearin  thin  and  bare  ;  gray  temples 

Those  strains  that  once  did  sweet  in  Zion  glide. 
He  wales  a  portion  with  judicious  care  ;  selects 

And  "  I^et  us  worship  God  !  "  he  says  with  solemn  air. 

*  Any  liquid  supped  with  a  spoon  ;  here  it  means  milk.  The  Scotch  phrase, 
"Bite  and  Sowpe"  is  equivalent  to  the  English  "Bit  and  Sup."— J.  H. 

fHow  it  was  a  twelvemonth  old  since  flax  was  in  bloom. — J.  H. 

\  In  every  Scotch  family  there  is  a  large  quarto  or  folio  Bible,  which  comes 
down  as  a  family-loom  from  sire  to  son,  and  is  used  besides  as  a  register  of  births 
and  deaths.  The  first  purchase  a  young  couple  makes  (if  they  have  not  inherited 
one)  is  a  family  Bible.— J.  H. 


184  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  [i/Ss 


They  chant  their  artless  notes  in  simple  guise, 

They  tune  their  hearts,  by  far  the  noblest  aim  ; 
Perhaps  '  Dundee's '  *  wild- warbling  measures  rise, 

Or  plaintive  '  Martyrs, '  *  worthy  of  the  name  ; 

Or  noble  '  Elgin  '  *  beets  the  heaven-ward  flame,  fan* 
The  sweetest  far  of  Scotia's  holy  lays  : 

Compar'd  with  these,   Italian  trills  are  tame  ; 
The  tickl'd  ears  no  heartfelt  raptures  raise  ; 
Nae  unison  hae  they,  with  our  Creator's  praise,  no      have 

The  priest-like  father  reads  the  sacred  p^ge. 

How  Abram  was  the  friend  of  God  on  high  ; 
Or  Moses  bade  eternal  warfare  wage 

With  Amalek's  ungracious  progeny  ; 

Or,  how  the  royal  bard  did  groaning  lie 
Beneath  the  stroke  of  Heaven's  avenging  ire  ; 

Or  Job's  pathetic  plaint,  and  wailing  cry  ; 
Or  rapt  Isaiah's  wild,  seraphic  fire  ; 
Or  other  holy  seers  that  tune  the  sacred  lyre. 

Perhaps  the  Christian  volume  is  the  theme, 
How  guiltless  blood  for  guilty  man  was  shed  ; 

How  He,  who  bore  in  Heaven  the  second  name. 
Had  not  on  earth  whereon  to  lay  his  head  : 
How  His  first  followers  and  serv^ants  sped ; 

The  precepts  sage  they  wrote  to  many  a  land  : 
How  he,  who  lone  in  Patmos  banished. 

Saw  in  the  sun  a  mighty  angel  stand, 

And     heard     great     Bab' Ion's     doom     pronounc'd     b>' 
Heaven's  command. 

Then  kneeling  down  to  Heaven's  Eternal  King, 

The  saint,   the  father,  and  the  husband  prays  : 

Hope  "springs  exulting  on  triumphant  wing,"t 

•  Names  of  favorite  Scottish  psalm  tunes. — J.  H. 
t  Pope's  "Witi<isor  Forest."— A".  B. 


AND  S 


.  namt;, 


^C^J1^^     lil. 


'  .'C 


}U->\A-   ■' :.piiii<>:^s  on  triumphant  wing/'f 

THE    COTTER'S   SATURDAY   NIGHT— "And  'Let   us 
worship  God  ! '  he  says  with  solemn  air." 


ii 


^T.  27.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  185 

That  thus  they  all  shall  meet  in  future  days, 

There,   ever  bask  in  uncreated  rays, 
No  more  to  sigh,  or  shed  the  bitter  tear, 

Together  hymning  their  Creator's  praise, 
In  such  society,  yet  still  more  dear  ; 
While  circling  Time  moves  round  in  an  eternal  sphere. 


Compar'd  with  this,  how  poor  Religion's  pride. 

In  all  the  pomp  of  method,  and  of  art ; 
When  men  display  to  congregations  wide 

Devotion's  every  grace,  except  the  heart ! 

The  Power,  incens'd,  the  pageant  will  desert. 
The  pompous  strain,   the  sacerdotal  stole  ; 

But  haply,  in  some  cottage  far  apart. 
May  hear,  well-pleas' d,   the  language  of  the  soul  ; 
And  in  His  Book  of  L^ife  the  inmates  poor  enroll. 

Then  homeward  all  take  off  their  sev'ral  way  ; 

The  youngling  cottagers  retire  to  rest : 
The  parent-pair  their  secret  homage  pay. 

And  proffer  up  to  Heaven  the  warm  request, 

That  He  who  stills  the  raven's  clam'rous  nest. 
And  decks  the  lily  fair  in  flow'ry  pride, 

Would,  in  the  way  His  wisdom  sees  the  best. 
For  them  and  for  their  little  ones  provide  ; 
But  chiefly  in  their  hearts  with  grace  divine  preside. 

From  scenes  like  these,   old  Scotia's  grandeur  springs, 
That  makes  her  lov'd  at  home,  rever'd  abroad : 

Princes  and  lords  are  but  the  breath  of  kings,* 

"  An  honest  man's  the  noblest  work  of  God  ;"t 
And  certes,  in  fair  virtue's  heavenly  road, 


*  "Princes  and  lords  may  flourish,  or  may  fade  ; 

A  breath  can  make  them,  as  a  breath  has  made." 

Goldsmith's  Deserted  Village. 
t  Pope,     ^ssay  on  Man. 


186  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

The  cottage  leaves  the  palace  far  behind  ; 

What  is  a  lordliug's  pomp?  a  cumbrous  load, 
Disguising  oft  the  wretch  of  human  kind, 
Studied  in  arts  of  hell,  in  wickedness  refined  ! 

O  Scotia  !  my  dear,  my  native  soil  ! 

For  whom  m)-  warmest  wish  to  Heaven  is  sent, 
Long  may  th}-  hardy  sons  of  rustic  toil 

Be  blest  with  health,  and  peace,  and  sweet  content) 

And  O  !  may  Heaven  their  simple  lives  prevent 
From  luxury's  contagion,  weak  and  vile! 

Then,  howe'er  crowns  and  coronets  be  rent, 
A  virtuous  populace  may  rise  the  while. 
And  stand  a  wall  of  fire  around  their  much-lov'd  isle. 

O  Thou  !  who  pour'd  the  patriotic  tide. 

That  stream' d  thro'  Wallace's  undaunted  heart, ^ 

Who  dar'd  to,  nobly,  stem  tyrannic  pride. 
Or  nobly  die,  the  second  glorious  part : 
(The  patriot's  God,  peculiarly  thou  art. 

His  friend,   inspirer,  guardian,  and  reward  !) 
O  never,   never  Scotia's  realm  desert ; 

But  still  the  patriot,  and  the  patriot-bard 

In  bright  succession  raise,  her  ornament  and  guard  ! 

[That  this  poem  was  composed  near  the  close  of  1785,  is  proved 
by  the  author's  words  in  his  letter  to  John  Richmond,  17th  Feb- 
ruary, 1786.  In  that  letter,  the  titles  are  given  of  five  very  important 
poems,  including  "  The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night,"  which,  "among 
several  others,"  he  had  composed  since  Richmond  left  Mauchline. 
Lockhart  has  well  said — "'The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night'  is  per- 
haps, of  all  Burns'  pieces,  the  one  whose  exclusion  from  the  col- 
lection, were  such  things  possible  now-a-days,  would  be  most 
injurious,  if  not  to  the  genius,  at  least  to  the  character  of  the 
man." 

The  MS.  copy  of  this  poem,  used  by  the  printer  of  the  Kil- 
marnock edition  of  his  poems,  is  now  at  Irvine,  carefully  preserved 
by  the  Burns  Club  there,  along  with  several  other  manuscripts. 
A  fac-simile  of  it  was  published  by  Mr.  Maxwell  Dick,  of  that 
town,    in    1840.      An   earlier  copy   is   that  which   was   presented   to 


^.  27.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  187 

Allan  Cunningham  in  1S34  by  his  publisher,  Mr.  James  Cochrane, 
and  is  now  in  the  British  Museum,  Ivoudon. 

The  variations  marked  Q)  and  (^)  were- made  by  the  author  for 
his  edition  of  1793:  the  latter  originally  read  "great,  unhappy 
Wallace'  heart,"  the  change  having  been  adopted  to  please  Mrs. 
Dunlop.  The  expression  "  kiaugh  and  care"  (^)  was  at  the  same 
time  changed  to  "  carking  cares,"  to  suit  those  who  objected  to 
the  v/ord  ' '  kiaugh ' '  as  being  too  antiquated.  In  our  text,  we 
adhere  to  the  original  words.] 

The  following  is  condensed  from  Allan  Cunningham's  very  inter- 
esting note  on  this  poem : — 

When  Burns  was  first  invited  to  dine  at  Dunlop-house,  a  westlan 
dame,  who  acted  as  housekeeper,  appeared  to  doubt  the  propriety 
of  her  mistress  entertaining  a  mere  ploughman  who  made  rhymes, 
as  if  he  were  a  gentleman  of  old  descent.  By  way  of  convincing 
Mrs.  M'Guistan,  for  that  was  her  name,  of  the  bard's  right  to  such 
distinction,  Mrs.  Dunlop  gave  her  "The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night" 
to  read.  This  was  soon  done :  she  returned  the  volume  with  a 
strong  shaking  of  the  head,  saying,  "Nae  doubt  gentlemen  and 
ladies  think  mickle  o'  this,  but  for  me  it's  naething  but  what  I 
saw  i'  my  father's  house  every  day,  and  I  dinua  see  how  he  could 
hae  tauld  it  ony  other  way." 

Of  the  origin  of  this  poem,  Gilbert  Burns  gives  a  clear  account : 
— "  Robert  had  frequently  remarked  to  me  that  he  thought  there 
was  something  peculiarly  venerable  in  the  phrase,  'Let  us  worship 
God !  '  used  by  a  decent,  sober  head  of  a  family,  introducing  family 
worship.  To  this  sentiment  of  the  Author  the  world  is  indebted 
for  'The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night.'  Robert  and  I  used  frequently 
to  walk  together,  when  the  weather  was  favorable,  on  the  Sunday 
afternoons,  and  enjoyed  such  Sundays  as  would  make  one  regret 
to  see  their  number  abridged.  It  was  in  one  of  these  walks  that 
I  first  heard  him  repeat  'The  Cotter's  Saturday  Night.'  I  do  not 
recollect  to  have  read  or  heard  anything  by  which  I  was  more 
highly  electrified.  The  fifth  and  sixth  stanzas,  and  the  eighteenth, 
thrilled  with  peculiar  ecstasy  through  my  soul."  The  household 
of  the  virtuous  William  Burness  was  the  scene  of  the  poem,  and 
William  himself  was  the  saint,  and  father,  and  husband  of  this 
truly  sacred  drama. — J.  H. 


188  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

ADDRESS  TO  THE  DEIL. 

(KjIvMarnock  Ed.,  1786.) 


'  O  Prince  !   O  chief  of  many  throned  pow'rs  ! 
That  led  th'  embattl'd  seraphim  to  war — " 


MiLiTOW. 


O  Thou  !  whatever  title  suit  thee — 

Auld  "Hornie,"  "Satan,"  "Nick,"  or  "Clootie,"* 

JVha  in  yojt  cavern  grim  an'  sootie,  who     yonder 

Clos'd  under  hatches, 
Spairges  about  the  brunstane  cootie,  f^  scatters 

To  scaiid  poor  wretches !      scaid 

Hear  me,  auld  '''' Haiigic^''''  for  a  wee,  hangman 

An'  let  poor  damned  bodies  be  ; 

I'm  sure  sma^  pleasure  it  can  gie^  smau     give 

Ev'n  to  a  deil, 
To  skeip  an'  scaud  poor  dogs  like  me,  spank 

An'  hear  us  squeel ! 

Great  is  thy  pow'r  an'  great  thy  fame  ; 

Far  ken7i' d  an'  noted  is  thy  name  ;  known 

An'  tho'  yon  lowin  heugh' s  thy  hame,  blazing  pit's 

Thou  travels  far ; 
An'  faith  !  thou's  neither  lag  nor  lame,  laggard 


Nor  Mate  nor  scaur.  bashful 

apt  to  be  scared 


Whyles^  raging  like  a  roaring  lion,  at  times 

For  prey,  ^'  holes  an'  comers   tryin ;  aii 

Whyles,  on  the  strong-wing' d  tempest  flyin, 

Tirlin  the  kirks  ;  unroofing 

Whyles,  in  the  human  bosom  pryin. 

Unseen  thou  lurks. 


*  Some  of  the  names  given  to  the  D — 1  in  Scotland  —  Hornie  from  his  horns ; 
clootie    from    his    cloven    feet    or    cloots. — J.  H. 

t  The  poet  imagines  a  foot-pail,  called  in  Scotland  a  cootie,  filled  with  liquid 
brimstone,  which  Satan  distributes  over  his  victims.— J.  H. 


At.  27.]  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  189 

I've  heard  my  rev' rend   grannie  say, 

In  lanely  glens  ye  like  to  stray  ;  lonely 

Or  where  auld  ruin'd  castles  grey 

Nod  to  the  moon, 
Ye  fright  the  nightly  wand'rer's  way, 

Wi'  eldritch  croon.* 

When  twilight  did  my  grannie  summon,       grand-dame 
To  say  her  pray'rs  douce.,  honest  woman  !  decent 

Aft  ''yont  the  dyke  she's  heard  you  bzc7n)nin,'^^y°^^  fence-. 

ITTM  -J  buzzing; 

Wi    eene  drone  ;        awe-produdng 
Or,  rustlin,  thro'  the  boortrees  comin,  eider-trees 

Wi'  heavy  groan. 

Ae  dreary,  windy,  winter  night, 

The  stars  shot  down  wi'  sklcntin  light,  slanting 

Wi'  you  mysel,   I  gat  a  fright, 

Ayont  the  loch  ;  beyond 

Ye,  like  a  rash-buss.,  stood  in  sight,  msh-bush 

Wi'    Wavin    sough        dreary  sighing  ^ 
^  sound  / 

The  cudgel  in  my  nieve  did  shake,  fist 

Each  bristl'd  hair  stood  like  a  stake. 

When  wi'  an  eldritch,  f  stoor  "quaick,   quaick,"   bass 

Amang  the  springs, 
Awa  ye  squatter'' d  like  a  drake,  spluttered 

On  whistlin  wings. 

Let  warlocks  grim,  an'  wither' d  hags,  male  witches 

Tell  how  wi'  you,  on  ragweed  nags. 

They  skim  the  muirs  an'  dizzy  crags,  moors 

Wi'  wicked  speed  ; 
And  in  kirk-yards  renew  their  leagues, 

Owre  howket  dead,      over  resurrected 


*  With  mysteriously  aweful  hum.    The  word  eldritch  implies  something  super- 
natural and  frightful.— J.  H 
fSee  note  on  Stanza  5. 


190  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

Thence,  countra  wives,  wi'   toil  an'  pain. 

May  plunge  an'  plunge  the  kirn  in  vain  ;  chum 

For  oh  !  the  yellow  treasures  tacn  taken  away 

By  witchin  skill  ; 
An'  dawtet^  twal-pint  Hawkie'  s  gane     petted    cow  gone 

As  yeWs  the  bill^         dry     buU 

Thence,  mystic  knots  mak  great  abuse 

On  -^^oViXi%  gtddmeii,  fond,  keen  an'  croose ; ^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

When  the  best  wark-lume  i'  the  house, 

By  caniraip  wit^  magic  slight 

Is  instant  made  7io  worth  a  louse,        ^  not 

Just  at  the  bit. 

When  (homes  dissolve  the  snawy  hoord^     thaws   wreaths 

An'  float  the  jinglin  icy  boord,  f 

Then,   water-keipies  haunt  the  foord^     water-spirits     ford 

By  your  direction. 
And  'nigh ted  trav'llers  are  allur'd 

To  their  destruction. 

And  aft  your  moss-traversin  '■''  Spunkies''''  oft) 

Decoy  the  wight  that  late  an'  drunk  is  :^u°'tJ>^^sps; 
The  bleeziii^  curst,  mischievous  monkies  blazing 

Delude  his  eyes. 
Till  in  some  miry  slough  he  sunk  is, 

Ne* er   7nair   to    rise.  nevermore 

When  mason's  mystic  word  an'  grip 
In  storms  an'   tempests  raise  you  up. 


♦She  gave  twelve  Scotch  pints  or  twenty-four  English  quarts  a  day.  The  cow 
is  the  most  esteemed  possession  of  the  thrifty,  well-doing  Scotch  peasant.  It 
supplies  the  "  sowpe  of  kitchen"  for  his  and  his  family's  porridge,  and  keeps 
them  in  butter  and  cheese.  It  and  its  products  are  therefore  the  favorite  objects 
of  attack  by  malicious  witches,  and  the  good  wife  is  always  on  the  watch  against 
such.— J.  H. 

t  The  icy  board  is  called  jingling  in  allusion  to  the  sound  it  g^ves  out  when 
curling-stones  pass  over  it. — J.  H. 


arr.  27.]                       POEMS  AND  SONGS.  191 

Some  cock  or  cat  your  rage  maun  stop,  must 
Or,   strange  to  tell  ! 

The  youngest  ' '  britlier ' '  ye  wad  whip    pick  up  and  cany 

Aff  straiight  to  hell.  straight 

Lang  syne  in  Eden's  bonie  yard,  long  ago 
When  youthfu'  lovers  first  were  pair'd, 
An'  all  the  soul  of  love  they  shar'd. 

The  raptur'd  hour, 

Sweet  on  the  fragrant  flow'ry  swazrd,  sward 

In  shady  bow'r  ; 

Then  you,  ye  auld,  sneck-drawin^  dog  ! 

Ye  cam  to  Paradise  incog, 

An'  play'd  on  man  a  cursed  brogue^  trick 

(Black  be  your  /a'/)  doom 

An'  gied  the  infant  warld  a  shog^  gave     shock 

''Maist  ruin'd  a.'  almost 

D'ye  mind  that  day  when  in  a  bisz  bustle 

Wi'  reeket  duds,  an'  reestet  gizz,  f 

Ye  did  present  your  smoolie  phiz  sooty 

''  Mang  better  folk,  among 

An'  sklented  on  the  man  of  Uzz  squinted 

Your  spitefu'  joke? J 

An'  how  he  gat  him  z'  your  thrall,  in 

An'   brak  him  out.  o'  house   an'  haV ^  broke     hoid 

While  scabs  an'  botches  did  him  eall,  blotches 

Wi'    bitter    claiV ;  scratching 

An'  lows' d  his  ill-tongu'd  wicked  scaiil—  loosed) 

^  scolding  wife  > 

Was  warst  ava  ?  of  mi 


♦Sneck-drawin' :  drawing  the  sneck  or  latch  stealthily  and  with  thievish  pur- 
pose ;  hence,  insidious  deceitful,  treacherous.  See  note  on  "  Nick-scraping,"  p. 
285.-J.  H. 

t  With  smoke  stained  rags  and  fire-shrivelled  (literally  roasted)  face.— J.  H. 
J  Job  1 :  6-12. 


192 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


[1785. 


But  a'   your  doiugs  to  rehearse, 

Your  wily  snares  an'  fechtin  fierce,  fighting 

Sin'  that  day  Michael  *  did  you  pierce,  since 

Down  to  this  time, 
Wad  ding  a  Lallan  tongue,  or  Erse^  surpass    lowiand    gaeiic 

In  prose  or  rhyme. 

An'  now,  auld  "  Cloots,"   I  ken  ye' re  thinkin,    know 

frolicking 
in  a  hurrj- 


A  certain  bardie's  rantin^  drinkin, 

Some  luckless  hour  will  send  him  Hnkin^ 

To  your  black  pit  ; 
But,   faith!  he'll  turn  a  Qoxnox  jinkin.  -y 

An'  cheat  you  yet. 


dodging 


But  fare-you-weel,  auld  "Nickie-ben  !" 

O  wad  ye  tak  a  thought  and  mend  ! 

Ye  aiblins  might — I  dinna  ken —       perhaps 

Still  Jiae  a  stake 
7'w  wae  to  think  upo'  yon  den, 

Ev'  n  for  your  sake ! 


don't  know 

have 

I  am  sorry 


[The  only  variation  we  have  to  record  in  connection  with  this 
poem  is  in  the  seventh  verse  from  the  close,  and  it  is  a  very 
significant  one.  In  the  letter  to  John  Richmond,  of  17th  Feb- 
ruary, 1786,  already  alluded  to  in  the  note  to  "The  Cotter's 
Saturday  Night,"  the  poet  hints  at  something  disagreeable  having 
happened  with  respect  to  himself.  The  reference  there  was  to  an 
occurrence  which,  shortly  afterwards,  led  to  a  rupture  between 
Jean  Armour  and  him.  As  the  present  poem  then  stood,  the 
verse  indicated  read  as  follows  : — 


'Lang  syne,  in  Aden's  happy  scene 
When  strappin  Adam's  days  were  green, 
And  Eve  was  like  my  bonie  Jean — 

My  dearest  part, 
A  dancin,  sweet,  young,  handsome  quean, 

O  g^iileless  heart." 


long  ago 


girt 


For  that  stanza,  the   one   in   the   text   was   substituted   when   he 
came   to   prepare   the  poem   for   the  press.      A   similar   obliteratioc 


*ytde  Milton,  Book  vi.— ^.  B. 


^T.  27.]  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  193 

of  the  name  of  Jean  was  made  in  the  poem  entitled  "The  Vision." 
He  would  have  deleted  "the  adored  name"  from  the  "Epistle  to 
Davie"  also,  we  may  be  very  certain,  had  it  been  possible  to  do 
so  without  seriously  injuring  it. 

This  "Address  to  the  Deil"  is  one  of  the  author's  most  popular 
pieces,  and  has  been  the  theme  of  unmingled  praise  by  critics. 
The  poet's  relenting  tenderness,  even  towards  the  author  and  per- 
petual embodiment  of  evil,  is  a  fine  stroke  at  the  close.  "  Humot 
and  tenderness,"  says  Dr.  Currie,  "are  here  so  happily  intermixed, 
that  it  is  impossible  to  say  which  predominates."] 


SCOTCH  DRINK. 

(KlI^MARNOCK   Ed.,    1786.) 

Gie  him  strong  drink  until  he  wink,  give 

That's  sinking  in  despair ; 
An'  liquor  guid  to  fire  his  bluid,  good       blood 

That's  prest  wi'  grief  an'  ''are  : 
There  let  him  bomse,  an'  deep  carouse,  drink  freely 

Wi'  bumpers  flowing  o'er, 
Till  he  forgets  his  loves  or  debts, 

An'  minds  his  griefs  no  more. 

Solomon's  Proverbs,  xxxi.  6,  7. 

lyET  other  poets  raise  a  fracas 

'  Bout  vines,  an'  wines,  an'  drucken  Bacchus,    dmnkea 

An'  crabbet  names  an'  stories  rack  us, 

An'  grate  our  lug:  ear 

I  sing  the  juice  Scotch  here  can  mak  us,         barley 

In  glass  or  jug.* 

O  thou,  my  muse  !  guid  auld  Scotch  drink  ! 
Whether  thro'  wimplin  wonns  thou //;//&,  winding    steal 
Or,  richly  brown,   rea7n  ozvre  the  brink,     cream  over 

In  glorious  /aem,^  foam 

Inspire  me,   till  I  lisp  an'  wink. 

To  sing  thy  name  ! 


*  In  the  form  of  whisky  or  beer. 


194  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1785. 

Let  husky  wheat  the  haiighs  adorn,  holmes 

An'  aits  set  up  their  awnie  horn,  oats     bearded 

An'  pease  an'  beans,  at  e'en  or  mom, 

Perfume  the  plain  : 
Leeze  me  on  thee,  John  Barleycorn,        commend  me  to 

Thou  king  o'  g^ain  ! 

On  thee  aft  Scotland  chows  her  cood^  chews  her  cud 
In  soupie  scones,  *  the  wale  o'  food !  supple  choice 
Or  tumblin  in  the  boiling  flood  ! 

Wi'  kail  an'  beef;  t 
But  when  thou  pours  thy  strong  heart's  blood. 

There  thou  shines  chief. 

Food  fills  the  wainc^  an'  keeps  us  leevin;  beiiy    living 

Tho'  life's  a  gift  no  worth  receivin, 

When  heavy-dragg'd  wi'  pine  an'  grievin  ;         pain 

But  oil'd  by  thee. 
The  wheels  o'  life  p-ae  down-hill,  scrievin.        .^.  ^°) 

^  .  .  gliding   Y 

Wi'  rattlin  glee  swiftly  ) 

Thou  clears  the  head  o'  doited  Lear ;        dazed  learning 

Thou  cheers  the  heart  o'  drooping  Care  ; 

Thou  strings  the  nerves  o'   Labor  sair^  sore 

At's  weary  toil  ; 
Thou  ev'n  brightens  dark  Despair 

Wi'  gloomy  smile. 

Aft,  clad  in  massy  siller  weed,  J 

Wi'  gentles  thou  erects  thy  head  ;      people  of  condiUon 

Yet,  humbly  kind  in  time  o'  need. 

The  poor  man's  wine  ; 


*  Scones  are  soft  cakes  of  barley-meal,  or  wheat  flour,  or  oat-meal  mixed  with 
potatoes,  baked  on  the  griddle. — J.  H. 

t  Broth  made  from  barley  boiled  with  kale  and  beef,  is  the  national  soup  ol 
Scotland.— J.  H. 

J  Often,  in  the  form  of  ale,  appearing  in  silver  mugs. — ^J.  H. 


1 


/isrr.  27.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  195 

His  wee  drap  parritch^  or  his  bread,     oat  meai  po. ridge 
Thou  kitchens  fine.*         relish 

Thou  art  the  life  o'  public  haunts ; 

But  thee,  what  were  our  fairs  and  ra^its  ?  without  froUcs 

Ev'n  godly  meetings  o'   the  saunts^  saints 

By  thee  inspir'd. 
When,  gaping,   they  besiege  the  tents. 

Are  doubly  fir'd.f 

That  merry  night  we  get  the  corn  in,t 

O  sweetly,  then,  thou  reams  the  horn  in  !  horn  "Tup) 

Or  rcekin  on  a  New-year  mornin  smoking 

-r  7  •    7  wooden  mug) 

In  cog  or  bicker^  bowii 

An'  just  a  wee  drap  sp'^ritnal  burn  in,  uttie  drop  whisky 

An'  gusty  sucker  !%        toothful  sugar 

When  Vulcan  gies  his  bellows  breath 

An'  ploughman  gather  wi'  their  graith^      implements 

O  rare  !  to  see  thee  fizz  an'  freath  froth 

I'    th'    lugget   Caupi         eared  cup 

Then  Burnewin  comes  on  like  death  blacksmith 

At  ev'ry  chaup.  stroke 

Nae  mercy,  then,   for  aim  or  steel ;  iron 

The  brav/nie,  bainie,  ploughman  chiel^  large-boned     lad 
Brings  hard  owrehip,  wi'  sturdy  wheel. 

The  strong  forehammer. 
Till  block  an'  studdie  ring  an'  reel,  anvii 

Wi'  dinsome  clamor.  noisy 

When  skirlin  weatties  see  the  light,      squalling  infants 
Thou  maks  the  gossips  clatter  bright, 

*  Brisk  small  ale  or  beer  is  used  in  Scotland  with  porridge  as  well  as  with 
bread,  in  place  of  milk,  when  the  cow  is  "yell." — J.  H. 
t  See  "  The  Holy  Fair." 
X  The  Kim  or  Harvest-Home. — J.  H. 
§  Ale-posset  with  whisky  added  and  sweetened  with  sugar. — ].  H. 


196  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [17S5. 

How  fumblin  cidfs  their  dearies   slight  ;  imbedie  doits 

Wae  worth  the  name  !  woe  be  to 
Nae  howdie  gets  a  social  night,  midwife 

Or  piack  frac  them,    penny  from 

When  neibors  anger  at  a  pica,,  suit 

An'  just  as  wud  as  wud  can  be,  mad 

How  easy  can  the  barlcy-bric  bariey-juice  (,whisky) 

Cement  the  quarrel  ! 
It's  aye  the  cheapest  lawyer's  fee. 

To  taste  the,  barrel. 

Alakc!  that  e'er  my  muse  has  reason,  aiasi 

To  wyte  her  countn^men  wi'  treason  !  biame 

But  mony  daily  zvcct  their  ivcason  wet     throat 

Wi'   liquors  nice, 
An'  hardly,   in  a  winter  season, 

E^ er  spier  her  price,    ever  ask 

Wae  worth  that  brandy,  burning  trash 

Fell  source  o'  mony  a  pain  and  brash!  sudden  attack 

Twins  mony  a  poor,  doylt,  drucken  hash,* 

O'  half  his  days  ; 
An'  sends,  beside,  auld  Scotland's  cash 

To  her  warst  faes.        worst  foes 

Ye  Scots,   wha  wish  aiild  Scotland  well  !    who     oid 

Ye  chief,   to  you  my  tale  I  tell, 

Poor,  plackless  devils  like  mysel  !  penniless 

It    sets  yOll    ill^  iU  becomes  you 

Wi'    bitter,    dearthfu'    wines    to    W^//,  expensive       meddle 

Or  foreign  gill. 

May  gravels  round  his  blather  wrench,  biaddef 

An'  gouts  torment  him  inch  by  inch, 

•  Robs  many  a  poor  dazed,  drunken  fool. 


/^T.    27.] 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


197 


Wha  twists  his  gruntle  wi'  a  glunch      mouth  frown 

O'  sour  disdain, 

Out  owre  a  glass  o'  whisky-punch  over 

WV  honest  men  !  with 


O  whisky  !  soul  o'  plays  and  pranks  ! 

Accept  a  bardie' s  gratefu'   thanks  !  poet's 

When  wanting  thee,  what  tuneless  cranks   grating) 

sounds  ' 

Are  my  poor  verses  ! 
Thou  comes — they  rattle  i'  their  ranks 
At  ither^s  a — s  ! 


other's 


Thee,   Ferintosh  !  *  O  sadly  lost  ! 
Scotland  lament  frae  coast  to  coast  ! 
Now  colic  grips,  an'  barkin   hoast 

May  kill  us  a'; 
For  loyal  Forbes'  charter' d  boast 

Is  ta''en  awa  ! 


from 
cough 


taken  away 


Thae  curst  horse -leeches  o'  th'  Excise,  these 

Wha  mak  the  whisky  stells  their   prize  !  stnis 

Hand   up   thy   han'.    Deillf    ance,    twice, 

thrice!  worthless  ^ 

There,  seize  the  blinkers  .'^"^^^ 
An'  bake  them  up  in  brunstane  pies  brimstone 

For  poor  d — n'd  drinkers. 

Fortune  !  if  thou' 11  but  gie  me  still      ^hoie  breeches . 
Hale  breeks^  a  scone ^X  an'  whisky  gill,  bannock; 


*  Whisky  from  a  privileged  distillery  in  the  barony  of  Ferintosh,  in  Cromarty- 
shire, belonging  to  Forbes  of  Culloden.  The  privilege  was  granted  by  an  act  of 
the  Scottish  Parliament  (1690),  for  services  rendered  by  Forbes,  and  expenses 
incurred,  at  the  Revolution  (168S),  and  was  abolished  by  Parliament  in  1785-— 
J.  H. 

t  Hold  up  your  hand,  as  if  offering  a  bid  for  them  and  wanting  them  —J.  H. 

\  See  stanza  fourth. 


198  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1785. 

An'  rowth  o'  rhyme  to  rave  at  will,  abundance 

Tak  a'  the  rest,  takeaii 

An'  deal't  about  as  thy  blind  skill 

Directs  thee  best. 


[Gilbert  Bums,  in  his  narrative  of  his  brother's  early  life,  thus 
remarks  on  the  subject  of  this  poem:  —  "Notwithstanding  the 
praise  he  has  bestowed  on  '  Scotch  Drink ' — which  seems  to  have 
misled  his  historians — I  do  not  recollect,  during  these  seven  years 
[the  Tarbolton  period],  nor  till  towards  the  end  of  his  com- 
mencing author — when  his  growing  celebrity  occasioned  his  being 
often  in  company  —  to  have  ever  seen  him  intoxicated,  nor  was 
he  at  all  given  to  drinking." — Curriers  Ed.,  1801.  vol.  i.,  p.  73. 

Robert  Fergusson  had  composed  verses,  in  the  same  measure, 
on  the  subject  of  "Caller  Water,"  and  Burns,  in  search  of  a  theme 
to  aid  in  filling  his  contemplated  volume,  took  up  "Scotch  Drink." 
He  has  not  treated  the  topic  as  a  temperance  lecturer  might  have 
done ;  but  the  generous  reader  will  be  apt  to  say  with  Chambers 
that  "the  humane  passage  in  verse  seventh  redeems  much  that 
may  otherwise  be  objectionable  in  the  poem." 

The  following  variation  occurs  in  verse  twelve,  in  the  first 
edition  : — 

Wae  worth  them  for't ! 
While  healths  gae  round  to  him  wha,  tight,  "  fit " 

Gies  fa:nous  sport.] 

(Mr.  Waddell  institutes  a  comparison  between  this  poem  of  Burns 
and  Horace's  odd  Ad  Aniphoram,  and  indicates  that  the  supe- 
riority in  humor  and  genial  humanity  lies  with  the  Scottish  bard. 
There  is,  he  says,  "  an  admixture  on  Burns'  side  of  deep  and 
gentle  charity,  that  makes  his  humor  like  a  pungent  balm  to  the 
ronsciences  of  mankind." — J.  H.) 


«X.  27.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  199 


THE  AULD  FARMER'S  NEW- YEAR  MORNING 

SAI^UTATION   TO   HIS   AUIvD 

MARE,   MAGGIE, 

Ou  giving  her  the  accustomed  ripp  of  corn  to  hansel  in  the  New  Year. 

(Kilmarnock  Ed.,  1786.) 

A  GUID  New-year  I  wish  tliee  Maggie  ! 

Hae,  there's  a  ripp  to  thy  auld  baggie ."^^caesxxx  stomach 

Tho'  ^oVi'showe-backitnoyR,  an'  /C-««^^z"^^°"o^-^a^^^^} 

I've  seen  the  day 
Thou  could  hae  gaen  like  ony  staggie^        smaiistag 

Out-owre  the  lay,       over     lea 

Tho,  now  thou^s  dowie^  stiff  an'  crazy ^  spiritless  worn  out 

An'  thy  auld  hide  as  white's  a  daisie, 

I've  seen  thee  dappPt^  sleek  an'  ^/^^z'^zl?,  dappled  glossy 

A  bonie  gray  :  et 

He  should  been  ticht  that  daurH  to  raize  thee,  ^aredl 

.  rousej 

Ance   in    a    day.         once  on  a  time 

Thou  ance  was  2'  the  foremost  rank,  la 

A  filly  biiirdly^  sleeve  an'  JZ£/««/6/ stately  firm  agiie 
An'  set  weel  down  a  shapely  shank, 

As  e'er  tread  yird ;  earth 

An'  could  hae  flown  out-owre  a  slank^      ditch  or  pool 

I/ike  uny  bird.  any 

It's  now  some  nine-an' -twenty  year, 

•/     •'  •  father-ln-law's  1 

Sm'  thou  was  nxy  guid-father  s  meere  ;   mare  ; 

He  gied  me  thee,  <?'  locker  clear,          gave  of  dowry 

An'  fifty  mark  ;  * 

Tho'  it  was  sma',  'twas  weel-won  gear^  money 

An'  thou  was  slark.  strong 

•A  Scotch  coin  worth    135,  \d.  Scotch,  or  is.  ly^d.  I^nglish  or  26J^  cents.— J.  H. 


200  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

When  first  I  gaed  to  woo  my  Jenny ^     went     janet 
Ye  then  was  trottin  wi'  your  7ninnie :  dam 

The'  ye  was  trickle',  slee^  an'  funnie,  siy 

Ye  ne'er  was  donsie;  mischievous 
But  hamely,  tawie^  quiet,  an'  cannie^  tractable    gentle 

An'    unco  SOnsie.    in  high  condition 

That  day,  ye  pranc'd  wi'  muckle  pride,  much 

When  ye  burc  hame  my  bonie  bride  :  bore 

An'  sweet  an'  gracefu'  she  did  ride, 

Wi'  maiden  air! 
Kyle-Stewart*  I  could  bragget  wide,x 

For  sic  a  pair.  such 

Tho'  now  ye  dow  but  hoyte  and  hobble    can     Ump 

An'  wintle  like  a  sauviont-coble^         rock     saimon-boat 

That  day,  ye  was  z.  jinker  noble,  runner 

For  heels  an'  win' \  spee^and. 

wind  j 

An'  ran  them  till  they  a'  did  zvauble^  reel 

Far,  far  behin'  I 

When  thou  an'  I  were  young  an'  skiegh^  high-mettiea 
An'  stable-meals\  at  fairs  were  ^-^z'*?^/?, long-continued } 
How  thou  wad  prance,  an'  snore,  an'  skriegh^  "^^""^  \ 

An'  tak  the  road  ! 
Town's-bodies  ran,  an'  stood  abiegh^      out  of  the  way 

An'  cd'  t  thee  mad.  caued 

When  thou  was  com't,  an'  I  was  mellow,  J 
We  took  the  road  aye  like  a  swallow : 


•See  note,  page  203. 

t  The  stable-meal  is  the  "  gill "  drunk  after  ordering  the  horse  to  be  brought 
out  of  the  stable,  and  just  before  setting  out  homeward.  But  when  one  good 
fellow  orders  his  "gill"  or  "  half-mutchkin,"  and  another  his,  the  "meal"  is  apt 
to  become  "dreigh." — J.  H. 

t  When  you  had  got  your  starting  feed  of  oats,  and  I  was  mellow  with  the 
"  stable-meal  "  and  its  accompaniments.— J.  H. 


«T.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  201 

At  brooses^  thou  had  ne'er  a  fellow,  ^ross^coun^} 
For  pith  an'  speed  ; 

But  ev'ry  tail  thou  payH  them  hollow,  beat 

Where'er  thou  gaed.         went 

The  sma',  droop-rumpl't,  hunter  cattle 

.  ,      .  ^  ^  perhaps  beat » 

Might  aiblins  waiirH  thee  for  a  brattle;  dash/ 

But  sax  Scotch  mile,   thou  try't  their  mettle. 

An' ^«r'/ them  whaizie  :m&de    wheeze 

Nae  whip  nor  spur,  but  just  a  wattle       suppie  wand 

O'  sai{gh  or  hazle.  wiuow 

Thou  was  a  noble  *fittie-lan',t 

As  e'er  in  tnz  or  tow  was  drawn  !  ^^^^     "'p* 

.  eight) 

Aft  thee  an'  I,  in  aught  hours'  gatoi,  ^oinsitn  piough)\ 
In  guid  March-weather, 

Hae  turtCd  sax  rood  beside  02ir  han^^  ploughed  six  roods 
For  days  thegither.        together 

Thou  never  bramg'^t^  an'  fetch^t,  an'   plunged      jibbed 

fiisket  /  fretted 

But  thy  auld'  tail  thou  wad  hae  whisket^  have  whisked 
An' spread  «^r^^^  thy  weel-fill'd  brisket^  ahroa^A    breast 

Wi'  pith  an'  power  ; 
Till   sprittie     knowes  wad  rair't  an'  risket, 

An'  slypet  owre.  % 

When  frosts  lay  lang  an'  snaws  were  deep, 
An'  threaten' d  labor  back  to  keep, 
I  gied  thy  cog  a  wee  bit  heap  feed-dish 

Aboon  the  ti7nmer:  wooden  edge 


*  On  bringing  home  a  bride  from  where  the  marriage  was  celebrated  it  waf 
customary  to  have  a  race,  when  he  who  reached  the  house  first  won  the  prize— 
a  kiss  of  the  bride. — J.  H. 

t  The  near  horse  of  the  hindmost  pair  in  ploughing. 

t  Till  knolls  tough  with  roots  would  roar  and  crackle  as  they  were  torn  up,  and 
the  clods  fall  smoothly  over. — J.  H. 


202  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

I  ken'd  my  Maggie  wad  na  sleep,  knew 

For   that,    or  simmer.*   before summe* 

In  cart  or  car  thou  never  reestet ;  baiked 

The  steyest  brae  thou  wad  hae  fac'  tit;      steepest  hiu 
Thou   never   lap^    an'    stenned^    an'      leapt      strained 
breastet^  plunged 

Then  stood  to  blaw  ; 
But  just  thy  step  a  wee  thing  hastet. 

Thou  SJIOOVH  awa.  smoothly  ©u* 

My  **pleugh"  is  now  thy  bairn-time  a*,t 

Four  gallant  brutes  as  e'er  did  draw  ; 

Forbye  sax  mae  I've  sellt  awa^  six  more     sold  off 

That  thou  hast  nurst : 
They  drew  me  thretteen  piuid  an^  twa^       fifteen  pounds 

The  very  warsi,  worst 

Mony  a  sair  daurg  we  twa  hae  wrought,  hard  day's  work 
An'   wt)  the  weary  zvart  fought !  with    world 

An'  mony  an  anxious  day,  I  thought, 

We  wad  be  beat  I  would 

Yet  here  to  crazy  age  we're  brought, 

Wi'  something  yet 

Ari^  think  na\  my  auld  trusty  servan',  don't  tMnk 
That  now  perhaps  thoii's  less  desemn  thou  art 

An'  thy  auld  days  may  end  in  starvin  ; 

For  my  lasty^ze',  bushel 

A  heapet  stimpart^X  I'll  reserve  ane  h  of  a  bushel 

Laid  by  for  you. 


*  She  would  repay  his  kindness  by  faithful  work  in  Spring.— J.  H. 
+  All  the  four  horses  now  working  in  my  plough  are  your  progeny. — J.  H. 
X  The  old  man  would  reserve  a  stimpart  or  good  feed  from  his  very  last  bushe* 
for  his  faithful  old  horse. — J.  H. 


The.    ..... 


to  crazy 


".    SiC'^'O.  knew 

:!gf,       btfors  summer 


went} 
snoOTTl  aiva.  mooUilyoa) 


M 


liardday'awoTV. 


■tv'  servan',       don't tit-^i 
^^eservin 


-erve  ane         >«offc 

by  for  ycr;. 


THE  TWA  DOGS. 


,^  0.^.1^ 


^T.  28.]  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  203 

We've  worn  to  crazy  years  thegither ; 

We'll  toyte  about  wi'  aiie  anither;   totter,    one  another 

Wi'  tentie  care  I'll  Jiit  thy  tether      watchfni      move 

To  some  hain' d  rig,   '■^''„^^^} 
Whare  ye  may  nobly  rax  your  leather,  stretch  your  skin 

Wi'  sma'  fatigue. 

[Our  poet  seems  to  have  "hansel'd"  the  eventful  year  1786  with 
this  poem,  which  is  executed  in  his  very  best  manner.  Professo*' 
Wilson,  in  his  famed  Essay  on  Burns,  declares  that,  to  his  knowledge, 
the  recital  of  it  has  brought  tears  of  pleasure  to  the  eyes,  and  "hu- 
'^anised  the  heart  of  a  Gilmerton  carter."] 


THE  TWA  DOGS : 

A  TAI.S. 
(Kii,MARNOCK  Ed,,  1786.) 

'TwAS  in  that  place  o'  Scotland's  Isle, 
That  bears  the  name  o'  auld  "King  Coil,"* 
Upon  a  bonie  day  in  June, 

When  weariJi  thro'  the  afternoon,  somewhat  late  in 

Twa  dogs,   that  were  na  thraiig  at  hame,  busy 

Forgather^  d  ance  upon  a  time.  encountered  once 

The  first  I'll  name,  they  cd'dhlm.  "Caesar,"    caiied 
Was  keepet  for  "his  Honor's"    pleasure: 
His  hair,  his  size,  his  mouth,  his  lugs,  ears 

Shew'd  he  was  nane  o'  Scotland's  dogs  ; 
But  whalpet  some  place  far  abroad,  wheiped 

Whare  sailors  gang  to  fish  for  cod-t  go 

*  The  district  of  Kyle  in  Ayrshire,  the  central  dix-ision  of  the  county,  and  sepa. 
rated  from  Carrick  on  the  south  by  the  Doon,  and  from  Cunningham  on  the 
nortn  by  the  Irvine.  Within  this  district  Burns  was  born  and  lived,  except  the 
few  months  he  was  at  school  at  Kirkoswald,  until  he  went  to  reside  permanently 
in  Dumfries-shire.  The  reader  will  find  a  poetical  outline  of  this  region  as  de- 
pictedon  the  Muse's  robe  of  Coila  in  the  "  Vision."  Its  name  is  traditionally  said 
to  be  derived  from  Coilus,  a  pre-historic  Pictish  sovereign  entombed,  according 
to  popular  belief,  near  the  old  mansion  of  Coilsfield.  In  1S37  careful  excavations 
discovered  calcined  remains  buried  here  in  earthen  urns,  which  represented  un- 
questionably some  hero  of  the  primitive  race.  Coilsfield,  the  Bloody  Bum  and 
the  Dead  Man's  Holm  are  names  still  attached  to  the  locality.  For  the  abov^ 
interesting  note  we  are  largely  indebted  to  Waddell. — ^J.  H. 

t  Newfoundland. 


204  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [17861 

His  locked,  letter' d,  braw  brass  collar 
Shew'd  him  the  gentleman  an'  scholar; 
But  though  he  was  o'  high  degree, 
The  Jicnt  a  pride,  nae  pride  had  he  ;    deuce  a  particle  oi 
But  wad  hac  spent  an  hour  caressin,  would  have 

Ev'n  wi'  a  tinkler-gipsey's  mcssan:  cur 

At  kirk  or  market,  mill  or  sviiddic^  smithy 

Nae  /aided  tykc^  tho'  e'er  sae  rt'wrtV/^,  rough  cur  ragged 
But  he  wad  stand,  as  glad  to  see  him. 
An'  stroaii' d  on  stanes  an'  hillocks  wi'  him.    urinated 

The  tither  was  a  ploughman's  collie — 
A  rhyming,  ranting,  roving  billie^^ ^  feiiow 

Wha  for  his  friend  an'  comrade  had  him, 
And  in  his  freaks  had  "  Luath  "  ca'' d  him,     named 
After  some  dog  in  Highland  sang,t 
Was  made  lang  syjic — Lord  knows  how  lang.  iongsin«e 

He  was  a  gash  an'   faith fu'   tyke^        sagacious     dog 
As  ever  lap  a  shciigh  or  dyke.  ditch     fence 

His  honest,  sonsie^  haws' nt  face  happy  white-stnped 
Ay  gat  him  friends  in  ilka  place  ;  every 

His  breast  was  white,  his  toiisie  back  shaggy 

Weel  clad  wi'   coat  o'  glossy  black  ; 

His  gaWSl'e   tail,    wi'    upward    curl,  large  handsome 

Hung  ozvre  his  Jmrdics  wi'  a  swirl.  °^^'"     ^*p^ 

Nae  doubt  but  they  wqxq  fain  o'  ither^  each"o1hcri 

And  \XnQ.O  pack  an''   thick  thegither;     fnendly  and  intimate 

Wi'    social   nose   whyles  snuff'* d  an''  someWm^s  smew^dy 
snoivket;  '^"^  ^"'^^^      ^ 

moles) 

Whyles  mice  an'  mondieworts  they  howket;  dug  up/ 
WJiyles  scour' d  awa'  in  lang  excursion,  sometimes 
An'  worry' d  ither  in  diversion;  each  other 

Till  tir'd  at  last  wi'  mony  a  farce. 
They  set  them  down  upon  their  arse, 


♦Bums  himself. 

tCuchullin's  dog  in  Ossian's  "Fingal." — R.  B.  The  reference  made  to  the  in- 
definite  antiquity  of  Highland  song  seems  to  indicate  Bums'  acquaintance  \idtli 
the  controversy  then  going  on  relative  to  the  genuineness  of  the  Poems  of  Ossian, 
and  his  faith  therein. — J.  H. 


ajT.  28.]  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  205 

An'  there  began  a  lang  digression 
About  the  "lords  o'  the  creation." 

CJBSAR. 

I've  aften  wonder' d,  honest  lyuath, 
What  sort  o'  life  poor  dogs  like  you  have ; 
An'  when  the  gentry's  life  I  saw, 
What  way  poor  bodies  liv'd  ava.  atau 

Our  laird  gets  in  his  racked  rents 
His  coals,  his  kane,   an'  a'  his  stents  * 
He  rises  when  he  likes  himsel  ; 
His  flunkies  answer  at  the  bell  ; 
He  ca^s  his  coach  ;  he  ca's  his  horse  ;  caiis 

He  draws  a  bonie  silken  purse, 
As  lang's  my  tail,  whare,   thro'  the  steeks^     stitches 
The  yellow  letter'  d  Geordie  t  keeks,   stamped  guinea  peeps 
Frae  morn  to  e'en  it's  nought  but  toiling. 
At  baking,  roasting,   frying,   boiling ; 
An'   tho'   the  gentry  first  are  stechin^       over-feeding  I 
Yet  ev'n  the  hd'  folk  fill  their  pechaii  servants     stomach 
Wi'  sauce,  ragouts,  an'  sic  like  trashtrie^  trash 

That's  little  short  o'  downright  was  trie.  waste 

Our  whipper-in,  zuee^  blastet  zvonjier.,    blasted  uttie  sinner 
Poor,  worthless  elf,   it  eats  a  dinner, 
Better  than  ony  tenant-man 

His  Honor  has  in  a'  the  Ian'' :  the  estate 

An'  what  poor  cot-folk  />it  their  J>amc/i  in,  put    paunch 
I  own  it's  past  my  comprehension. 

-      LUATH. 

Trowth.  Caesar,  whyles,  they're  fashH  indeed^ 

'  7  -^         )  J  J  sometimes^ 

eneUgh  :  perplexed) 

A  cotter  howkin  in  a  sheiigh.,  digging     ditch 

*  stents :  assessments,  especially  In  labor  or  produce,  imposed  on  tenants.  Be- 
sides rent,  a  laird  had  several  claims  on  his  tenants.  They  had  to  draw  his  coals, 
supply  a  certain  amount  of  produce  (especially  fowls)  from  the  farm  under  the 
name  of  "  Kane,"  often  to  assist  In  securing  his  harvest,  to  furnish  a  certain 
amount  of  turf  or  peats,  etc. — J.  H. 

T  See  p.  68. 


206  POEMS  AND  SONGS,  [1786. 

Wi'  dirty  stanes  biggin  a  dyke^  bunding      fence 

Baring  a  quarry,  and  sic  like  ;  uncovering     such 

Himsel,  a  wife,  he  thus  sustains, 

A    SViytrie   O'    wee    duddie    WeanS^tnbe  ragged  children 

An'  nought  but  his  han^-daurg^  to  keep    hand's  labor 
Them  right  an'  tight  in  thack  an'  rape.*  ^^''^^'^ l""^] 

An  when  they  meet  wi'  sair  disasters. 
Like  loss  o'   health  or  want  o'  masters, 
Ye  maist  wad  think,  a  wee  touch  langer    almost  would 
An'  they  7naii7i  starv^e  o'  cauld  and  hunger :  must     coid 
But  how  it  comes,   I  never  A^enl  yet,  knew 

They're  maistly  wonderfu'   contented 
An'  biiirdly  chiels^  an'  clever  hizzies^  stately  feiiows    giris 
Are  bred  in  sic  a  way  as  this  is.  such 

Ci^AR. 

But  then  to  see  how  ye' re  neglecket, 
How  hufTd,  an'  cuflf'd,  an'  disrespecket  I 
L — d  man,  our  gentry  care  as  little 
For  delvers,  ditchers,  an'  sic  cattle  ; 
They  gang  as  saucy  by  poor  folk,  go     past 

As  I  wad  by  a  stinking  brock.  badger 

I've  notic'd  on  our  laird's  court-day^ —        rent-day 
An'  mony  a  time  my  heart's  been  wae^ —  sad 

Poor  tenant  bodies,  scant  o'  cash. 
How  they  maun  thole  a  factor's  snash        insolence) 
He'll  stamp  an'  threaten,  curse  an'  swear 
He'll  apprehend  them,  poiiid  their  gear;     property) 
While  they  maun  stan',  wi'  aspect  humble, 
An'  hear  it  a' ,  an'  fear  an'  tremble  !  f 

I  see  how  folk  live  that  hae  riches ; 
But  surely  poor-folk  maun  be  wretches  !  must 


*" Tight  in  thack  and  rape"  is  a  Scottish  phrase  equivalent  to  "in  propet 
condition."  It  dates  back  to  the  days  when  all  houses  were  thatched,  and  to  b« 
"  tight  in  thack  and  rape  "  was  the  one  grand  desideratum. — J.  H. 

tl>escribed  from  his  father's  experience  in  Mount  Oliphant.— J.  H. 


4JT.    28.] 


POEMS  AND   SONGS. 


207 


poverty's 


gives 


I.UATH. 

They're  no  sae  wretched' s  ane  wad         onewouw 
think  ; 
Tho'  constantly  on  poortith)  s  brink, 
They're  sae  accustom' d  wi'  the  sight, 
The  view  o't  gies  them  little  fright. 

Then  chance  and  fortune  are  sae  guided, 
They're  ay  in  less  or  mair  provided  ; 
An'   tho'  fatigu'd  wi'  close  employment, 
A  blink  o'  rest's  a  sweet  enjoyment. 

The  dearest  comfort  o'  their  lives, 
'X:');\€\r  grushie  weans  OiXi'  faithfu'  wives;  thriving  children 
The  prattling  things  are  just  their  pride, 
That  sweetens  a'  their  fire-side. 

An'  whyles  twalpennie  *  worth  o'  nappy  sometimes  aie 
Can  mak  the  bodies  luico  happy  :    good  folks  wonderfuuy 
They  lay  aside  their  private  cares, 
To  mind  the  Kirk  and  State  affairs  ; 
They'll  talk  o'  patronage  an'  priests, 
Wi'  kindling  fury  i'  their  breasts,  t 
Or  tell  what  new  taxation's  comin. 
An'  ferlie  at  the  folk  in  Lon'on. 

As  bleak-fac'd  Hallowmass  returns 
They  get  the  jovial,  rantin  kirns^    frolicsome  harvest  homes 
When  rural  life,  of  ev'ry  station. 
Unite  in  common  recreation  ;  glances  from  the  eye 

Love  blinks^  Wit  slaps^  an'  social  Mirth 
Forgets  there's  Care  upo'  the  earth. 


marvel 

All  Saints'  day) 

(31st  October)  / 


hiU 


*  Scotch  money  was  worth  just  one-twelfth  of  English  money  of  the  same  name. 
Twelvepence  Scotch  was,  therefore,  just  equal  to  one  penny  sterling,  or  two 
cents. — J.  H. 

fThis  is  another  example  of  Bums'  marvellous  power  in  catching  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  Scottish  peasantry  and  depicting  these  by  brief  happy  touches. 
Their  fondness  for  polemical  discussion  is  probably  the  most  prominent  feature 
in  their  mental  character.  Their  very  interest  in  religion  leads  them  to  criticize 
their  ministers  freely,  often  severely,  and  to  denounce  what  they  regard  as  abuses 
in  the  church  with  bitterness.  Patronage,  or  the  right  of  one  land-owner  (called 
the  patron)  to  present  a  minister  to  a  charge  despite  the  wishes  of  the  people 
has  always  been  the  object  of  their  special  abhorrence,  and  the  cause  of  every 
disruption  in  the  church.    It  is  now  abolished.— J.  H. 


208  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786^ 

That  merry  day  the  year  begins, 
They  bar  the  door  on  frosty  win' s  ;  winds 

The  nappy  reeks  wi'  mantling-  ^'(^a;;^  strong aie  smokes  ^ 

^-f-^  .  .    .  °  *  creamy  froth/ 

An'  sheds  a  heart-mspirmg  steam  ; 

The  luntin  pipe,   an'  snecshin  niill^  glowing    snuff-muu 

Are  handed  round  wi'  right  guid  will  ; 

The  cantie  auld  folks  crackin  cronse^  conversing  gieefuiii^} 

The  young  anes  ranting  thro'  the  house —      frolicking 

My  heart  has  been  sae  fain  to  see  them,  giad 

That  I  for  joy  hae  barket  wi'  them. 

Still  it's  owre  true  that  ye  hae  5aid,  too 

Sic  game  is  now  owre  aften  play'd  j,  such 

There's  mony  a  creditable  stock 
O'  decent,  honest,  fawsont  folk,  seemly 

Are  riven  out  baith  root  an'  branch,  both 

Some  rascal's  pridefu'  greed  to  quench, 
Wha  thinks  to  knit  himsel  the  faster 
In  favor  wi'  some  gentle  master,  aristocratic 

Wha,  aiblins  thrang  a  parliamentin',         perhaps  busy 
For  Britain's  guid  his  said  indentin' —  soui 

C^AR. 

Haith^  lad,  ye  little  ken  about   it :         faith    know 
For  Britain's  guid!  guid  faith  !  I  doubt  it. 
Say  rather,  gau7i  as  Premiers  lead  him  :  going 

An'  saying  aye  or  no  's  they  bid  him  : 
At  operas  an'  plays  parading. 
Mortgaging,  gambling,  masquerading, 
Or  maybe,  in  a  frolic  daft^  foolish 

To  Hague  or  Calais  takes  a  waft, 
To  mak  a  tour  an'  tak  a  whirl. 
To  learn  bon  ton^  an'  see  the  worl'. 

There,  at  Vienna  or  Versailles, 
He  rives  his  father's  auld  entails  ;  *         tears  up     old 

*  The  law  of  entail  was  one  by  which  the  proprietor  of  an  estate  was  debarred 
from  selling  it  or  any  part  of  it,  or  even  from  indebting  it  beyond  his  own  life- 
time, so  that  every  new  heir  received  it  unburdened  and  undiminished.  This 
law,  and  that  of  primogeniture,  were  the  means  by  which  the  great  estates  of 


^T.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  209 

Or  by  Madrid  lie  takes  the  route 

To  thrum  guitars  Sin'  fec/it  zvi'   iiowt ;    fight  with  bulla 

Or  down  Italian  vista  startles, 

Wh-re-hunting  amang  groves  o'  myrtles  : 

Then  bowses  drumlie  German  water,         swiiis  muddy 

To  mak  himsel  look  fair  an'  fatter, 

An'  clear  the  consequential  sorrows, 

Love-gifts  of  Carnival  signoras. 

For  Britain's  guid  !  for  her  destruction  ! 
Wi'  dissipation,  feud  an'  faction. 

IvUATH. 

Hech  man !  dear  sirs  !  is  that  the  gate  aias     way 

They  waste  sae  mony  a  braw  estate  !  fine 

Are  we  sae  foughteii  an'  harass' d  so  toiled 

For  gear  to  gang  that  gate  at  last  ?  money     go 

O  would  they  stay  aback /r^^  courts,  from 
An'  please  themsels  wi'  countra  sports. 

It  wad  for  ev'ry  ane  be  better,  would 

The  laird^  the  tenant,  an'  the  cotter  !  land-owner 

For  time   frank,    ra7itm\    ramblin'      these  frolicsome 

billies^  fellows 

Fient  haet  d'  them's  ill-hearted  fellows  ;     not  a  whit  of 

Except  for  breakin  o'  their  timmer,* 

Or  speakin  lightly  o'  their  limmer^  mistress 

Or  shootin  of  a  hare  or  moor-cock,  f 

The  ne'er-a-bit  they're  ill  to  poor  folk. 

But  will  ye  tell  me,  master  Caesar, 
Sure  great  folk's.life  's  a  life  o'  pleasure? 
Nae  caiild  nor  hunger  e'er  can  steer  them,      *^'>''^l 
The  vera  thought  o't  need  na  fear  them. 


Britain  were  kept  entire.  There  were  devices— costly  and  hard  to  carry  out— by 
which  a  proprietor  in  desperate  circumstances  might  in  certain  contingencies 
break  the  entail,  but  the  doing  so  was  always  regarded  as  a  proof  of  great  ex- 
travagance— generally  of  dissipation— and  unjust  to  his  descendants.  The  law  is 
now  much  modified  and  will  probably  soon  be  removed  from  the  Statute  Book, 
-J.  H. 

♦stealing  firewood  from  their  plantations.— J.  II. 

tPoaching.— J.  H. 

I.  N 


210  POEMS  AND   SONGS,  [1786 

C^AR. 

L — d,  man,  were  ye  but  whyles  whare    sometimes 
I  am, 
^he  gc7itles^  ye  wad  ne'er  envy*  them  !  people  of  station 

It's  true,   they  need  im  starve  or  sweat,  not 

Thro'  winter's  caiild^  or  simmer's  heat  ;  coid 

They've    nae   sair-wark  to   craze   their     hard  work) 

•^  wear  out  > 

banes, 
An'  fill  auld-age  wi'  grips  an'  graiies :  groans 

But  human  bodies  are  sic  fools,  creatures     such 

For  a'  their  colleges  an'  schools,      ^ 
That  when  nae  real  ills  perplex  them. 
They  mak  enow  themsels  to  vex  them  ; 
An'  ay  the  less  they  hae  to  stiirt  them,     have     distress 
In  like  proportion  less  will  hurt  them. 

A  country  fellow  at  the  pleugh. 
His  acre's  till'd,  he's  right  eneugh  ; 
A  country  girl  at  her  wheel. 

Her  dizzeii^  s  done,t  she's  unco  wee  I;      dozen     aii  right 
But  gentlemen,  an'   ladies  ivarst^  worst 

Wi'  ev'n-down  want  o'  wark  are  curst. 
They  loiter,  lounging,  lank  an'   lazy  ;  iistiess 

Tho'  deil-haet  ails  them,  yet  uneasy  :         d-i  a  whit 
Their  days  insipid,  dull  and  tasteless  ; 
Their  nights  unquiet,  lang  an'  restless. 

An'  ev'n  their  sports,   their  balls  an'  races, 
Their  galloping  through  public  places, 
There's  sic  parade,  sic  pomp  an'  art, 
The  joy  can  scarcely  reach  the  heart. 

The  men  cast-out  in  party  matches,  quarrel 

Then  sowther  a'  in  deep  debauches.  solder 

Ae  night  they're  mad  wi'  drink  an'  wh-ring,     one 
Niest  day  their  life  is  past  enduring.  next 

♦Accent  on  last  syllable  of  envj'. — J.  H. 

f  A  dozen  cuts  of  one  hundred  and  twenty  threads  each  was  the  prescribed 
quantity  a  country  servant  lass  had  to  spin  after  accomplishing  her  household 
work.— J.  H. 


AtT.  28.]  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  2H 

The  ladies  arm-in-arm  in  clusters^ 
As  great  an'  gracious  a'  as  sisters  ; 
But  hear  their  absent  thoughts  <?'  Mer,     ofeachothei 
They're  a'  run  deils*  an'  j'ads  thegither.  jades togethet 
Whyles^  owre  the  wee  bit  cup  an'  piatie^  sometimes  | 
They  sip  the  scandal-potion  pretty  ; 
Or  lee-lang  nights^  wi'  crabbet  leicks  looks} 

Pore  ozejre  the  devil's  pictur'd  beuks  ;t  ovei 

Stake  on  a  chance  a  farmer's  stackyard^        barnyard 
An'  cheat  like  ony  unhang' d  blackguard. 

There's  some  exceptions,  man   an'  woman  ; 
But  this  is  gentry's  life  in  common. 

I  By  this,   the  sun  was  out  o'  sight, 
An'   darker  gloaming  brought  the  night  ;       twilight 
The  bum-clock  humm'd  wi'  lazy  drone  ;      night-beetie 
The  kye  stood  rozvtin  i'  the  loan  ;      cows     lowing     lane 
When  up  they  gat^  an'  shook  their  lugs^     got     ears 
Rejoic'd  they  were  na  men,  but  dogs  ; 
An'  each  took  aff  his  several  way, 
Resolv'd  to  meet  some  ither  day. 

["The  tale  of  '  Twa  Dogs'  was  composed  after  the  resolution 
of  publishing  was  nearly  taken.  Robert  had  had  a  dog  which  he 
called  'L,uath,'  that  was  a  great  favorite.  The  dog  had  been  killed 
by  the  wanton  cruelty  of  some  person  the  night  before  my  father's 
death.  Robert  said  to  me  that  he  should  like  to  confer  such 
immortality  as  he  could  bestow  upon  his  old  friend  Luath,  and 
that  he  had  a  great  mind  to  introduce  something  into  the  book 
under  the  title  of  '  Stanzas  to  the  memory  of  a  quadruped  friend  ; ' 
but  this  plan  was  given  up  for  the  tale  as  it  now  stands.     'Cuisar' 

*D — Vs  or  imps  just  escaped  from  their  proper  home. — J.  H. 

t  Cards  are  called  in  Scotland  the  "  Deil's  picture-books."— J.  H. 

t  "  The  greatest  ma.sters  of  landscape  and  animal  painting,"  says  Waddell,  "by 
their  combined  efforts  could  produce  no  finer  representation  (of  evening)  than 
that  which  follows  in  the  four  succeeding  lines.  There  is  not,  in  the  whole  com- 
pass of  Shakspeare  a  more  perfect  picture,  including  figure,  color,  action,  time, 
and  sound,  with  moral  sense  conjoined,  than  is  here  presented  in  some  two-score 
words  :  yet  the  whole  concluding  portion  of  this  wonderful  work  was  dashed  ofl 
most  probably  during  an  evening's  walk  or  ride  from  Kilmarnock  to  Mossgiel, 
in  child-like  acquiescence  with  the  suggestions  of  a  printer,  and  to  meet  the 
requirements  of  the  compositor  when  his  operations  began." 


212  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

was  merely  the  creature  of  the  poet's  imagination,  created  for  the 
purpose  of  holding  chat  with  his  favorite  Luath^ — Letter  of  Gilbert 
Burns,  vol.  iii.,  Appendix,  Currie's  Ed. 

The  main  object  of  this  poem,  Dr.  Currie  has  remarked,  "seems 
to  be  to  inculcate  a  lesson  of  contentment  on  the  lower  classes 
of  society,  by  shewing  that  their  superiors  are  neither  much  better 
nor  happier  than  themselves.  .  .  .  The  dogs  of  Bums,  excepting 
in  their  talent  for  moralizing,  are  downright  dogs,  and  not,  like 
the  horses  of  Swift,  and  '  Hind  and  Panther '  of  Dryden,  men  in 
the  shape  of  brutes." 

The  first  variation  we  have  to  notice  is  in  the  sixth  paragraph 
of  the  poem, — some  of  the  poet's  more  squeamish  critics  having 
prevailed  on  him  to  change  a  very  simple,  natural  and  graphic 
couplet  to  a  verj-  tame  and  inexpressive  one.  Accordingly,  in  the 
edition  of  1793,  instead  of  the  lines  in  our  ttxt,  we  read  as 
follows : — 

Until  wi'  daCBn  weary  grown, 
Upon  a  knowe  they  sat  them  down : 

and  from  one  of  his  manuscripts  of  that  period,  it  might  be 
inferred  that  the  alteration  cost  him  some  trouble,  as  the  former 
line  there  reads  thus  : — 

Till  tired  at  last,  and  weary  grown. 

Some  close  observer  of  the  canine  species  has  remarked  that  dogs 
never  choose  a  "knowe"  to  sit  on.  The  poet's  picture  ought  not 
to  have  been  meddled  with. 

The  second  variation  is  found  in  the  edition  of  1786,  where, 
instead  of  the  improved  text,  we  read  thus : — 

"An'  purge  the  bitter  ga's  an'  cankers, 
O*  curat  Venetian  b— res  an'  ch— ncr«s."l 


^T.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  213 


THE  AUTHOR'S  EARNEST  CRY  AND  PRAYER. 

TO    TH^    SCOTCH    REPRESENTATIVES     IN    THE    HOUSE    OP 

COMMONS.* 

(KiiyMARNOCK  Ed.,   1786.) 

Dearest  of  distillation  !  last  and  best 

——How  art  thou  lost ! 

Parody  on  Milton. 

Ye  Irish  lords,  ye  knights  an'  squires, 

Wha  represent  our  brughs  an'  shires, 

An'  doucely  manage  our  affairs  ,  soberly 

In  parliament, 
To  you  a  simple  poet's  pray'rs 

Are  humbly  sent. 

Alas  !  my  roopet  f  muse  is  hearse !  croupy  hoarse 
Your  Honors'  hearts  wi'  grief  '  twad  pierce,  it  would 
To  see  her  sittin  on  her  arse 

Low  i'  the  dust, 
And  scriechih  out  prosaic  verse,  screeching 

An'  like  to  briist !  burst 

Tell  them  wha  hae  the  chief  direction,  have 

Scotland  an'  me's  in  great  affliction, 


♦This  was  written  before  the  Act  anent  the  Scotch  distilleries,  of  session  17S6, 
for  which  Scotland  and  the  Author  return  their  most  Rratefnl  thanks. — R.  B.  In 
1785  loud  complaints  were  made  by  the  Scotch  distillers  respecting  the  vexatious 
and  oppressive  manner  in  which,  at  the  instigation  of  London  distillers,  the  ex- 
cise laws  were  enforced  at  their  establishments.  Many  distillers  forsook  the 
trade,  and  the  price  of  barley  was  affected,  while  illicit  distillation  increased 
alarmingly.  In  1786  an  act  was  passed  discontinuing  the  duties  on  low  wines 
and  spirits,  and  substituting  an  annual  tax  on  stills  according  to  their  capacity. 
This  act  gave  general  satisfaction.  This  poem  is  an  expression  of  the  poet's 
feeling  in  regard  to  fiscal  oppression,  and  was  written  end  of  1785  or  beginning 
of  1786,  during  the  controversy. — J.  H. 

t  Roopit  means  affected  with  that  peculiar  hoarseness,  resulting  from  ovet^ 
straining  the  voice,  and  is  from  the  .same  root  as  the  Dutch  roepen,  to  cry  aloud, 
and  Scotch  roup,  an  auction.  His  muse  had  been  "scriechiu"  so  long  that  she 
became  "  roopit." — ^J.  H. 


214  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

E'er  sin'  they  laid  that  curst  restriction 

On  aqiia-vitcB ;  whisky 

An'  rouse  them  up  to  strong  conviction, 
An'  move  their  pity. 

Stand  forth,  an'   tell  yon  Premier  youth  * 

The  honest,  open,   naked  truth  : 

Tell  him  o'  mine  an'   Scotland's  drouth^  thirst 

His  servants  humble  : 
The  muckle  deevil  blaw  ye  south, 

If  ye  dissemble  !     ^ 

Does  ony  great  man  gliuich  an'    gloom  ?  frown 

Speak  out,  an'  never  fash  your  thumb  !  trouble 

Let  posts  an'  pensions  sink  or  soom  swim 

Wi'   them  wha  grant  them  ; 
If  honestly  they  camia  come,  cannot 

Far  better  want  them. 

In  gath'rin  votes  you  were  na  slack  ;  no» 

Now  stand  as  tightly  by  your   tack  :  bargain 

Ne'er  claw  your  litg^  a.n'  Jidge  your  back,  scratch    ear) 

An'  hum  an'  haw  ; 
But  raise  your  arm,  an'  tell  your  crack  story 

Before  them  a'. 

Paint  Scotland  greetin  owre  her  thrissle  ;  thistle  > 

Her  nmtchin  stowp  as  /<9(9w'j  a  whissle  :^^*®^  ^^^°*^| 

■f  .  '  empty  as  > 

An'  d — mn'd  excisemen  in  a  bussle, 

Seizin  a  stell^  stiii 

Triumphant,   crushin't  like  a  mussel, 

Or  limpet  shell,  f 


•  Mr.  Pitt,  who  was  premier  at  the  age  of  twenty-five.  He  was  boin  in  the 
same  year  with  Bums — 1759.— J.  H. 

tAt  this  time  Burns  had  no  expectation  he  was  to  be  an  exciseman  himself^ 
and  a  very  inflexible  one  (except  to  struggling  poverty)  at  that. — ^J.  H. 


iST.   28.] 


POEMS  AND   SONGS. 


215 


Then,  on  the  titJier  hand,  present  her —  other 

A  blackguard  smuggler  right  behint  her, 

An'  cheek- for-chow.  a  chiifhe  vintner,       cheek  by  jown 

^  '    „  .  .    .  '  bloated/ 

Colleaginng  joni.  conspiring 

Pickin'  her  pouch  as  bare  as  winter  pocket 

Of  a'   kind  coin. 

Is  there,  that  bears  the  name  o'  Scot, 
But  feels  his  heart's  bluid  rising  hot, 
To  see  his  poor  mild  mither's  pot  old 

Thus  dung  in  staves,  knocked 

An'  plunder' d  o'  her  hindmost  groat,* 

By  gallows  knaves  ? 

Alas  !  I'm  but  a  nameless  wight, 
Trode  i'  the  mire  f  out  o'  sight  ! 
But  could  I  like  Montgomeries  |  fight. 

Or  gab  like  Boswell,  §        out       I 
There's  some  sark-necks  I  z£/«^draw  tight,^'"''*^"^^"*'*''^]- 

^       '       would       ' 

An'  tie  some  hose  well. 


God  bless  your  Honors  !    can  ye  see't — 

The  kind,  auld,   cantie  carlin  greet ^  cheerful  oidi 

An'  no  get  warmly  to  your  feet,  ^^^"  ^""p  ^ 

An'  gar  them  hear  it.     compel  them 
An'   tell  them  wi'  a  patriot-heat, 

Ye  wiiina  bear  it?  win  not 


Some  o'  you  nicely  ke^i  the  laws,  know 

To  round  the  period  an'  pause. 
An'  with  rhetoric  clause  on  clause 

To  iiiak  harangues  ; 
Then  echo   thro'   Saint  StcpJicii' s   wa'' s     rariiamcnti 

Auld  Scotland's  wrangs. 


•A  Scotch  coin  reproduced  in  the  English  fourijcnny  t)it. — J.  If. 
tThe  rhythm  here  demands   that  this   monosyllabic   be  cuuncialcd  as  two  syl* 
tables. 
J  The  Montgomeries  of  Coilsficld. 
2  Boswell  of  Auchinlcck,  an  Ayrshire  laird,  and  Ihc  biographer  of  Johnson. 


216  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

Dempster,*  a  true  blue  f  Scot  I'se  warran  ; 
Thee,  «^V/^-detesting,  chaste  Kilkerran ;  X  oath 

An'   that  glib-gabbet  Highland  baron,       ready-tongued 

The  Laird  o'  Graham,  § 
An'  ane,  a  chap  that's  d — mn'd  auldfarran      feUowi 

_^         1         -I   •  II  sagacious  > 

Dundas  his  name  :|| 

Erskine,  a  spimkie  Norland  bilhe  ;**     ''''"'"^geTtrema™} 

True  Campbells,   Frederick  and  Hay  ;  ff 

An'  Ivivistone,  the  bauld  Sir  Willie  ;  %%  bold 

An'  mony  ithers^^  others 

Whom  auld  Demosthenes  or  Tully 

Might  own  for  brithers.       brothers 

See,  sodger  Hugh,§§  my  watchman  soldier 

SteJlted^  II  II  bound 

If  bardies  e'er  are  represented  ; 

I  ken  if  that  your  sword  were  wanted, 

Ye'd  lend  a  hand  ; 
But  when  there's  ought  to  say  ajient  it,   in  regard  to 

Ye'  re  at   a   stand,     you  are  at  a  stand-stlU 

Arouse,  my  boys  !  exert  your  mettle, 

To  get  auld  Scotland  back  her  kettle ;        whisky-stiii 


*  George  Dempster  of  Dunnichen,  M.  P. 

tBlue  was  the  color  of  the  flag  borne  by  the  Covenanters  when  they  took  the 
field  against  Charles  II.,  in  his  attempt  to  force  episcopacy  ou  Scotland.  Hence 
the  phrase:  "A  true-blue  Presbyterian." — J.  H. 

I  Sir  Adam  Ferguson,  M.  P. 

g  Marquis  of  Graham,  afterwards  Duke  of  Montrose. 

II  Right  Hon.  Henry  Dundas,  M.  P. 
**  Thomas,  afterwards  Lord  Erskine. 

ttLord  Frederick  Campbell,  M.  P.,  brother  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle,  and  Ilay 
Campbell,  Lord  Advocate,  afterwards  Lord  President. 

JJ  Sir  Wm.  Augustus  Cunningham,  Baronet,  of  Livingston,  for  some  time  sat  as 
M.  P.  for  the  county  of  Linlithgow,  where  he  had  his  estate,  which  he  was  after- 
wards compelled  to  sell  in  consequence  of  incurring  electioneering  debts. 

^Col.  Hugh  Montgomerie,  afterwards  Earl  of  Eglintoun.  He  was  "  stented " 
to  be  "  Burns'  watchman,"  as  representing  Ayrshire  in  Parliament,  so  that  Burns, 
as  an  Ayrshire  man,  had  a  claim  on  him  as  his  representative,  "  if  bardies  e'el 
are  represented." — J.  H. 

1 1  See  note  on  Stents,  p.  205. 


^er.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SCNGS.  217 

Or  faith  !  I'll  wad  my  new  pleiigh-pettle,  *      wagef 

Ye' 11  see't  or  lang^  erelong 

She'll  teach  you  wi'  a  reekin  whittle,  ""^"^^  smoking^ 

•'  '  with  blood  j 

Anither  sang. 
This  while  she's  been  in  crankous  mood,   ^°"'^*|"'fl 

'         ticklish  j 

Her  lost  Militia  f  fir'd  her  bliiid  ; 
(Deil  nor  they  never  mair  do  guid, 

Play'  d     her  that  pliskie  !  )    m-tutn 
An'  now  she's  like  to  rin  red-wud  mad-angry 

About  her  whisky. 

An'  L — d  !  if  ance  they  pit  her  lilV  t^      drive  her  to  u 

Her  tartan  petticoat  she'll  kilt, 

An'   diirk  an'  pistol  at  her  belt,  dirk 

She'll  tak  the  streets, 
An'  rin  her  whittle  to  the  hilt,  sword 

I'  the  first  she  meets  ! 

For  G — d-sake,  sirs  !  then  speak  her  fair, 

An'  straik  her  canjiie  wi'  the  hair,        stroke     gently 

An'    to    the    miicklc    house    repair,       great  house  (parliament 

Wi'  instant  speed, 
An'  strive,  wi'  a'   your  wit  an'   lear^  learning 

To  get  reniead.  redress 

Yon  ill-tongu'd  tinkler,   Charlie  Fox, 
May  taunt  you  wi'  his  jeers  an'  mocks  ; 
But  ^zW  him  '/  het,  my  hearty  cocks!     give  it  him  hot 
E'  en  coive  the  cadie  !  %       awe     feiiow 
An'  send  him  to  his  dicing  box 
An'  sportin  lady. 

•Implement  for  cleaning  the  plough  of  clods,  etc. 

t'fhe  Scots  Militia  Bill  was  burdc-ncd  with  conditions  which  liberal  Members 
would  not  accept,  and  it  was  opposed  and  lost. 

J  A  cadie  or  caddie  was  one  who  gained  a  livelihood  by  running  messages,  espe- 
cially in  the  streets  of  lidinburgh  ;  hence  the  word  came  to  be  a  syuouym  for  a 
low  fellow. — J.  H, 


218  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1786. 

Tell  yon  guid  bluid  d'  auld  Boconnock's,*    goodbiood 

I'll  be  his  debt  twa  mashlum  bannocks,  f 

An'  drink  his  health  in  auld  Nanse  Tinnock'st 

Nine  times  a  week, 
If  he  some  scheme,  like  tea  an'   wmnocks^%  windows 

Wad  kindly  seek. 

Could  he  some  commutation  broach, 

I'll  pledge  my  aith  in  guid  braid  Scotch,    oath     broad 

He  needna  fear  their  foul  reproach 

Nor  erudition.     "^ 
Yon  niixtie-maxtie^  queer  hotch-potbh,       badiy  mixed 

The  "Coalition. "II 

Auld  Scotland  has  a  raucle  tongue  ;    rough  and  reckless 
She's  just  a  devil  wi'  a  rung ;  bludgeon 

An'  if  she  promise  auld  or  young 

To  tak  their  part, 
Tho'  by  the  neck  she  should  be  strung, 

She'll  no  desert. 

And  now,  ye  chosen  Five-and-Forty,** 

May  still  your  mither's  heart  support  ye  ; 

Then,  tho'  a  minister  grow  dorty^  sulky 

An'  kick  your  place. 
Ye' 11  snap  your  fingers,  poor  an'  hearty, 
Before  his  face. 


*  Pitt  was  a  grandson  of  Robert  Pitt  of  Boconnock  in  Cornwall.  Pitt  (as  well 
as  his  father,  the  Earl  of  Chatham)  was  a  favorite  of  Bums.  Later,  we  shall  see, 
he  changed,  and,  on  one  occasion,  Pitt's  health  being  given  as  a  toast,  Bums,  to 
his  own  injury,  suggested  to  substitute  a  health  to  Washington.— J.  H. 

t  Mashlum  bannocks  or  scones  are  made  of  a  mash  of  various  kinds  of  grain. 

t  A  worthy  old  hostess  of  the  Author's  in  Mauchline,  where  he  sometimes  studies 
politics  over  a  glass  of  gude  auld  "Scotch  Drink." — R.  B.  Nine  times  a  week  is, 
of  course,  a  poetical  exaggeration,  besides  it  is  to  be  remembered  the  potations 
in  the  old  lady's  house  were  generally  of  home-brewed  ale,  of  which  both"  lads 
and  lasses  were  wont  to  be  partakers.  The  remark  made  in  reference  to  Bums' 
temperance  in  the  note  to  "Scotch  Drink"  applies  equally  to  this  piece. — ^J.  IL 

?  Some  duty  was  taken  off  tea,  and  the  loss  made  up  by  a  window-tax. 

\  See  note  p.  63. 
** Scotland   was  allowed  by  the  Act  of  Union  just  forty-five  representatives  in 
the  House  of  Commons,  and  sixteen  representative  peers  in  the  House  of  I<orda> 
-J.  H. 


j^.  28.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  219 

God  bless  your  Honors,  a'  your  days, 

Wi'  sowps  o'  kail  and  brats  o'  claise,* 

In  spite  o'  a'  the  thievish  ^acs,  jack-daws 

That  haunt  St  Jamie's  !  st^'jamet} 
Your  humble  poet  sings  an'  prays, 

While  Rab  his  name  is. 

POSTSCRIPT. 

Let  half-starv'd  slaves  in  wanner  skies 
See  future  wines,  rich-clust'ring,  rise  ; 
Their  lot  auld  Scotland  ne'er  envies. 

But,   blytJie  and  frisky,  cheerful 

She  eyes  her  freeborn,  martial  boys 

Tak  aff  their  whisky.  take  oS 

What  tho'   their  Phoebus  kinder  warms, 
While  fragrance  blooms  and  beauty  charms, 
When  wretches  range,  in  famish' d  swarms, 

The  scented  groves  ; 
Or,  hounded  forth,  dishonor  arms 

In  hungry  droves  ! 

Their  gun's  a  burthen  on  their  sJwiitJicr;         shoulder 

AiAi  7  7-71  '11/  7  cannot  stand ) 

Ihey  downa  bide  the  stink  o   poivtlicr ;         powder) 

Their  bauldest  thought's  a  Jianlc'ring  .y?tyz'///^r  boldest  1 

To  stand  or  rin,  hesitating  doubt i 

Till  skelp — a  shot — they're  aff,  a'  throwHher    crack) 
"  To  save  their  skin.       through-other/ 


But  bring  a  Scotchman  frac  his  hill, 
Clap  in  his  cheek  a  Highland  gill, 
Say,  such  is  royal  George's  will, 

An'   there's  the  foe  ! 
He  has  nae  thought  but  how  to  kill 

Twa  at  a  blow. 

•Sups  of  kalt  broth  and  duds  of  clothes.— J.  II. 


■to« 


220  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

Nae  cauld^  faint-hearted  doubtings  tease  him  ;  coid 
Death  comes,  wi'  fearless  eye  he  sees  him  ; 
Wi'  bluidy  hand  a  welcome  gies  him  ; 

An'  when  he  fa's^  fails 

His  latest  draught  o'  breathin  led'es  him  leaves 

In  faint  huzzas. 

Sages  their  solemn  eeii  may  sleeky  eyes     shut 

An'  raise  a  philosophic  reck^  smoke 

An'  physically  causes  seek, 

In  clime  an'  seasop  ; 
But  tell  me  whisky's  name  in  Greek, 

I'll  tell  the  reason. 

Scotland,  my  auld,  respected  mither  ! 

Tho'   ivhiles  ye  moistify  your  leather^  sometimes     skin 

Till,  whare  ye  sit  on  a'aps  o'  heather,  bunches 

Ye  tine  your  dam  ;  lose 

Freedom  and  whisky  gang  thegither !  go 

Tak  aflf  your  dram  ! 

[In  this  piece,  our  poet  returns,  with  increased  poetic  fervor,  to 
the  theme  of  "Scotch  Drink."  We  of  this  generation  are  apt  to 
wonder  why,  in  the  opening  line,  he  addresses  "Irish  lords"  instead 
of  those  of  our  own  Scotland,  when  hailing  the  "Scotch  repre- 
sentatives in  the  House  of  Commons  :  "  but  the  eldest  sons  of  Scottish 
peers  not  being  eligible  for  election  in  Scotland,  while  the  sons  of 
Irish  peers  were  eligible,  seems  to  have  been  felt  by  Burns  as  a 
national  affront.  (It  is  probable  that  some  of  this  class  actually 
represented  Scotch  constituencies.  We  must  therefore  regard  the 
prominence  here  given  to  "Irish  lords"  as  a  pointed  stroke  of 
satire.  The  question  was  tried  by  Lord  Daer,  son  of  the  Earl 
of  Selkirk,  during  the  poet's  lifetime,  both  in  the  Court  of  Session 
and  House  of  Lords,  and  decided  against  him.  Let  it  be  noted 
that  the  poem  opens  with  a  compliment  to  sobriety  in  the  person 
of  the  Irish  peers  and  other  Scottish  representatives. — J.  H.) 

The  fifteenth  stanza  was  excluded  by  the  ai:thor  in  published 
copies, — for  what  reason  Gilbert  Burns  could  not  say  :  but  clearly 
it  was  to  avoid  giving  offence  to  the  gallant  soldier  by  the  allusion 
to  his  deficiency  as  a  speaker.  The  closing  verse,  which  Currie 
approvingly  characterises  as  a  "most  laughable,  but  most  irreverent 


^T.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  221 

apostrophe,"  underwent,  in  the  edition  of  1794,  a  change  which 
has  been  rejected  by  every  editor  of  the  poet.  The  innovation 
seems  to  have  been  suggested  by  Mr.  Alexander  Fraser  Tytler. 

"Till  when  ye  speak,  ye  ablin's  blether, 
Yet,  deil  mak.  matter! 
Freedom  and  whisky  gang  thcgither, 

Tak  aff  your  whitter  l"] 


THE  ORDINATION. 

(Edinburgh  Ed.,  1787.) 

"  For  sense,  they  little  owe  to  frugal  Heav'n— 
To  please  the  mob  they  hide  the  little  giv'n." 

Kilmarnock  wabsters^  fi^^S^  an'  claw^'^ 

An'  pour  your  creeshic  natiois ;  greasy  tribes 

An'  ye  wha  leather  7'ax  an'  draw,  stretch 

Of  a'  denominations  ; 
Swith  !  to  the  Laigh  Kirk,  ane   an'  a',t 

An'  there  tak  up  your  stations  ; 
Then  aflf  to  Beg-bie'sJ  in  a  raw^  row 

An'  pour  divine  libations 

For  joy  this  day. 

Curst  "Common-sense,"   that  imp  o'  h-11, 

Cam  in  wi'   Maggie  Lauder  :§ 
But  Oliphant  ||  aft  made  her  yell, 

An'  Russell**  sair  misca'd  her: 


*  Fidget  and  scratch — signs  of  pleasant  excitement  among  liand-loom  weavers. 
Kihnarnock  was  then  a  town  of  three  or  four  thousand  inhabitants,  largely  em- 
ployed in  the  manufacture  of  carpets,  bonnets,  etc.,  and  (Chambers  says)  iu  the 
preparation  of  leather. — J.  H. 

toff,  to  the  Low  Church,  one  and  all— JII. 

J  Begbie's  Inn,  in  .-j  small  court  near  the  I.aigh  Kirk. 

\  Alluding  to  a  scoffing  ballad  which  was  made  on  the  admission  of  the  laic 
reverend  and  worthy  Mr.  Lindsay  to  the  "  I.aigh  Kirk." — R.  B. 

II  Rev.  James  Oliphant,  minister  of  Chapel  of  ICa.se,  Kilmaniock,  frouj  1764  to 
1774- 

**  Rev,  John  Russell  of  Kilmarnock,  one  of  the  "  Twa  Herds."  lie  was  successor 
to  Oliphant.     See  notes  pp.  S3,  129. 


222  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  •    [1786. 

This  day  Mackinlay  *  taks  the  flail,  f 

An'  he's  the  boy  will  bland  her  !  spank 

He'll  clap  a  shangan  on  her  tail,  tin  kettle 

An'  set  the  bairns  to  daud  her  bespatter 

Wi'   dirt  this  day. 

Mak  haste  an'  turn  King  David  owre^  over 

An'   lilt  wi'  holy  clangor  ;  sing 

O'    doitblc    verse    come    gie    us    four,     an  eight  line  stanza 

An'  skirl  up  ' '  the  Bangor  :  "  |        strike  up  shniiy 

This  day  the  kirk  kicks  up  a  stoiire^  dust  (disturbance) 

Nae  mair  the  knaves  shall  wrans"  her  :    no  more  % 

_-v  ...  o  /  wrong/ 

For  Heresy  is  111  her  pow'r, 

And  gloriously  she'll  whang  her,  thrash 

Wi'  pith  this  day. 

Come,  let  a  proper  text  be  read, 

An'  touch  it  afF  wi'  vigor. 
How  graceless  Ham  §  leugh  at  his  dad,       laughed 

Which  made  Canaan  a  nigger  ; 
Or  Phineas  ||  drove  the  murdering  blade, 

Wi'  whore-abhorring  rigor  ; 
Or  Zipporah,**  the  scaiildin  jad^  scolding  jade 

Was  like  a  bhiidy  teegcr  bloody  tigress 

I'   th'  inn  that  day. 


There,   try  his  mettle  on  the  creed, 
And  bind  him  down  wi'  caution, 

That  stipend  is  a  carnal  weed 
He  taks  but  for  the  fashion ; 

And  gie  him  o'er  the  flock  to  feed, 
And  punish  each  transgression  ; 


give 


*  Rev.  James  Mackinlay,  subject  of  the  present  poem,  ordained  6th  April,  1786. 
i^s  a  preacher,  he  became  "a  great  favorite  of  the  million." 
t  Begins  to  preach  and  to  thrash  heresy. 

\  A  favorite  psahn  tune.  2  Genesis  ix.  11.— R.  B. 

B  Numbers  xxv.  8.-7?.  B.  **  Exodus  iv.  25.— R.  B. 


.^T.    28.] 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


223 


Especial,  rams  that  cross  the  breed, 
Gie  them  sufficient  threshin  ; 

Spare  them  iiae  day. 

Now  aiild  Kihnarnock,   cock  thy  tail,  oid 

An'  toss  thy  horns  fu'  canty ;  merry 

Nae  mair  thou'lt  rowtc  oiit-owrc  the  dale  lowovet 

Because  thy  pasture's  scanty  ; 

For  lapfu's  large  o'  gospel  kail  greens 

Shall  fill  thy  crib  in  plenty, 
An'  runts  o'  grace  the  pick  an'  wale  kaie-staiks  choice 

No  gi'c?i  by  way  o'  dainty,  given 

But    ilka    day.*  every 

Nae  mair  by  "Babel's  streams"  we'll  weep. 

To  think  upon  our  "  Zion  ;" 

And  king  our  fiddles  up  to  sleep,  hang 

Like  h^hy-cloifts  a-dryin  !  ciotiis 

Come,  screw  the  pegs  wi'  tunefu'  cheeps  chirp 

And  o'er  the  tJiairnis  be  try  in  ;  strings 
Oh,   rare.!  to   see   our  clbucks  whecp,      elbows  whip 

And  rt'   like  lamb-tails  flyin  !  aii 

Fic'*   fast  this  day  !  right 


Lang,   Patronage, t  wi'  rod  o'   airn^ 
Has  shored  the  Kirk's  undoin  ; 

As  lately  Fenwick,  sair  forfair)i^ 
Has  proven  to  its  ruin  :  % 

Our  patron,  honest  man  !  Glencaim,§ 
He  saw  mischief  was  brewin  ; 


iron 
threatened 
distressed 


♦Kilmarnock  is  here  represented  as  an  animal  of  the  cow-kind  about  to  be 
abnndantly  cared  for  by  her  new  herd  ;  and  is  exhorted  to  manifest  her  exulta- 
tion accordingly. — J.   H. 

tSee  note  on  Patronage — "  Twa  Dogs,"  p.  207. 

t  Allusion  is  here  made  to  the  long  disputed  settlement  of  Rev.  Wm.  Boyd,  as 
minister  to  the  parish  of  Fenwick,  against  whom  the  people  were  prejudiced  as 
being  a  '' Moderate  "  or  member  of  the  "New  Light"  party.  lie  was  ultimately 
settle'*-  in  1782  and  became  an  acceptable  minister. — J.  H. 

g  Kar'  «)f  Glencairn. 


224 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


[1786. 


An'  like  a  godly ^  elect  bairn^  child  of  grace 

He's  waled  us  out  a  true  ane,  selected 

And  sound  this  day. 


Now  Robertson  *  harangue  nae  mair^ 

But  steek  your  gab  for  ever  ;  close 

Or  try  the  wicked  town  of  Ayr, 

For  there  they'll  think  you  clever  : 
Or,  nae  reflection  on  your  lear^ 

Ye  may  commence  a  shaver  ;    ^ 
Or  to  the  Netherton  f  repair,  ^ 

An'   turn  a  carpet-weaver, 

Aff-haiid  this  day.  right  away 


no  more 


mouth 


learning 


Mu'trie  %  and  you  were  just  a  match, 

We  never  had  sic  twa  drones  ; 
Auld  '■'■Hornie''''  did  the  Laigh   Kirk 
watch, 

Just  like  a  winkin  baiidrons^ 
And  ay  he  catch' d  the  tither  wretch, 

To  fry  them  in  his  caiidrons  ; 
But  now  his  Honor  viaiin  detach^ 

Wi'  a'  his  brimstone  squadrons, 
Fast,  fast  this  day. 


the  D— 1 1 
low  church  J 


cat 

tother 

caldrons 

must  make  oflf 


See,  see  auld  Orthodoxy's  y?r<".y  foes 

She's  swingein  thro'   the  city  ! 
Hark,  how  the  nine-tail' d  cat  she  plays  ! 

I    vow    it's    unco   pretty  :  uncommonly 

There,   Learning,  with  his  Greekish  face, 
Grunts  out  some  Latin  ditty  ; 


•  Rev.  John   Robertson,   colleague   of  Dr.    Mackinlay,   ordained   1765,   died   1798. 
He  belonged  to  the  "  Coninion-sense  "  order  of  preachers. 
t  A  district  of  Kilmarnock,  where  carpet  weaving  was  largely  carried  on. 
1  The  Rev.  John  Multrie,  a  "Moderate"  whom  Mackiulay  succeeded. 


a-T.  28.] 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


225 


And  ' '  Common-sense  ' '  is  gatin^  she  says,     going 
To  mak  to  Jamie  Beattie  * 

Her  plaint  this  day. 


But  there's  Morality  liimsel, 

Embracing  all  opinions  ; 
Hear,  how  he  gies  the  tit  her  yell,    gives 

Between  his  twa  companions  ! 
See,  how  she  peels  the  skin  an'  fcU^ 

As  ane  were  peelin  onions  ! 
Now  there,   they're  packed  aff  to  h-11. 

An'   banisird  our  dominions. 

Henceforth  this  day. 


the  other 
two 
hide 


O  happy  day  !  rejoice,  rejoice  ! 

Come    bouse    about    the    porter  !  sit  round  carousing 

Morality's  demure  decoys 

Shall  here  nae  mair  find  quarter  :  no  more 

Mackinlay,   Russell,  are  the  boys 

That  heresy  can  torture  ; 
They'll  gie  her  on  a  rape  a  hoyse^  rope     hoist 

And  cowe  her  measure  shorter 

By  th'   head  some  day. 


cut 


Come,   bring  the  tither  mufc]iki)i  in,     pint  of  whisky 

And  here's — for  a  conclusion — 
To  ev'ry  "new-light"  t  uiothcr's  son, 

From  this  tijne  forth,   confusion  ! 
If  mair  they  dcnvc  us  wi'   their  din    deafen      noise 

Or  patronage  intrusion, 
We'll  light  a  spuuL\  and  ev'ry  skin,  match 

We'll  rin  them  aff  itt  fusion^  mcit  them  oir 

Like  oil  some  day. 


•The   poet,  and   author  of  an    "  Ivssay  on    Truth,"   who  was  reckoned   to  side 
with  the  niodcrati-  party  in  churcli  matters. 

t  A  cant-phrase  in  the  West  of  Scotland,  for  those  religious  opinions  which  Dr. 
Taylor  of  Norwich  has  defended  so  strenuously.— A^.  li.    See  p.  119. 
I.  O 


226  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1786. 

[The  poet's  letter  to  Richmond  of  17th  February,  1786,  intimates 
that  the  present  poem  had  already  been  composed :  but  it  is  a 
curious  fact  that  Dr.  Mackinlay's  ordination  did  not  take  place 
till  6th  April  thereafter. 

Both  in  this  poem  and  its  companion  satire,  "The  Holy  Fair,"  a 
personality  named  "  Common-Sense  "  is  introduced.  This  means 
the  "new  light,"  or  Arminian  doctrine  that  began  to  be  observable 
in  the  teaching  of  some  Scotch  pulpits,  about  the  middle  of  last 
century,  and  which  Burns  lent  all  his  powers  to  promote.  Here 
he  retraces  the  history  of  the  "  Laigh  Kirk"  of  Kilmarnock  so 
far  back  as  the  year  1764,  and  shows  that  a  series  of  consecutive 
appointments  of  "New  Light"  ministers  then  commenced  with  the 
Rev.  William  Lindsay.  He  refers  to  "  a  scoffkig  ballad"  of  that 
date  which  more  than  hinted  that  the  minister  obtained  that 
appointment  through  the  influence  of  his  wife,  a  Miss  Margaret 
Lauder,  who  had  formerly  been  housekeeper  to  and  in  high  favor 
with  the  patron,  the  Earl  of  Glencairn.  On  the  present  occasion, 
however,  the  Earl  yielded  to  the  popular  wishes,  and  the  refreshing 
"  old  light "  again  spread  its  halo  around  the  Laigh  Kirk.  (Mackinlay 
survived  till  1841  ;  into  his  personal  history  there  is  no  reason  to 
enter.  His  son,  the  Rev.  James  Mackinlay,  died  in  Edinburgh  so 
recently  as  June,  1876.  "Poetically,"  says  Waddell,  "the  ordination 
is  remarkable  as  an  illustration  of  the  poet's  most  caustic  style,  and 
of  his  inimitable  gift  of  discomfiting  antagonists  by  the  quiet  repro- 
duction of  their  own  views."  Historically,  it  is  interesting  as  a 
record  of  the  state  of  ecclesiastical  polity  at  the  time,  and  of  the 
discussion  of  questions  which  resulted  in  the  Disruption  of  the 
Church.— J.  H.) 

The  following  variations  on  stanzas  fourth  and  fifth  are  found 
in  an  early  manuscript  of  this  poem  : — 


Come  wale  a  text,  a  proper  verse,  select 

And  touch  it  aff  wi'  vigor, 
How  Ham  leugh  at  his  father's  a —  laughed 

Which  made  Canaan  a  nigger  ; 
Or  Phineas  did  fair  Cozbie  pierce 

Wi'  whore-abhorring  rigor  ; 
Or  Zipporah,  wi'  scaulding  hearse,  &c. 

There,  try  his  mettle  on  the  creed, 

Wi'  form'la  and  confession  ;  formula 

And  lay  your  hands  upon  his  head, 

And  seal  his  high  commission, 
The  holy  flock  to  tent  and  feed,  g^ard 

And  punish  each  transgression,  &c.] 


^T.    28.] 


POEMS  AND   SONGS. 


227 


EPISTLE  TO  JAMES  SMITH. 

[Kii,MARNOCK  Ed.,   1786.] 

"  Friendship,  mysterious  cement  of  the  soul  I 
Sweet' net  of  I,ife,  and  solder  of  Society  1 
I  owe  thee  much " 


Dear  Smith,  the  slec'st^  paivkie  thief,  slyest 
That  e'er  attempted  stealth  or  t^ief! 
Ye  surely  hae  some  \varlock-(5r^^ 

Owre  human  hearts  ; 
For  ne'er  a  bosom  yet  was  pricf 

Against  your  arts. 


Blair. 

roguish 
robbery 

spell 
over 

proof 


For  me,  I  swear  by  sun  an'  moon, 

An'  ev'r}'^  star  that  blinks  aboojt^  twinkles 

Ye've  cost  me  twenty  pair  o'  shoon^ 

Just  gaiin  to  see  you  ; 
An'  ev'ry  ithcr  pair  that's  done, 

Mair  taen  I'm  wi'  you. 


That  auld,  capricious  carh'n^  Nature, 
To  mak  amends  for  scrimpct  stature, 
She's  turn'd  you  off,  a  human-creature 

On  her  first  plan. 
And  in  her  freaks,  on  ev'ry  feature 

She's  wrote  the  Man. 


above 

shoes 
going 
other 

more) 
captivated  > 

dame 
stinted 


Just  now  I've  taen  the  fit  o'  rhyme,  taken 

My  barniie  noddW s  working  prime,      yeasty  brain  is 

My  fancy  ycrkct  up  sublime,  worked 

Wi'  hasty  summon  : 

Hae  ye  a  leisure-moment's  time  have 

To  hear  what's  comiu? 


228  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1786, 

Some  rhyme  a  ncibor'  s  name  to  lash  ;  neighbor 

Some  rhyme  (vain  thought  !)  for  needfu'   cash  : 
Some  rhyme  to  court  the  countra  clash^  gossip 

An'   raise  a  din  ;  make  a  noise 

For  me,  an  aim  I  never  fash  ;  trouble  myself  about 

I  rhyme  for  fun. 

The  star  that  rules  my  luckless  lot, 

Has  fated  me  the  russet  coat, 

An'  damn'd  my  fortune  to  the  p-rca//       smaii  coin) 

,  four-pence  •• 

But,  m  requit, ' 
Has  blest  me  with  a  random-shot 
O'  countra  wit. 

for  some  time  back  ) 

This  while  my  notion's  taen  a  sklent^  *^^"^ 

To  try  my  fate  in  guid,  black  prent ;    print  {to  publish) 
But  still  the  jnair  I'm  that  way  bent,  more 

Something  cries  '  ^Hoolie  !    softiy 
I  red  you,  honest  man,   tak  tent !     counsel    be  cautious 

Ye' 11  shaw  your  folly  ;         show 

There's  ither  poets,  much  your  betters. 

Far  seeji  in  Greek,  deep  men  o'  letters,     ^^leamedl 

Hae  thought  they  had  ensur'  d  their  debtors,      have 

A'  future  ages  : 
Now  moths  deform,  in  shapeless  tatters. 

Their  unknown  pages." 

Then  farewell  hopes  of  laurel-boughs, 
To  garland  my  poetic  brows  ! 
Henceforth  I'll  rove  where  busy  ploughs 

Are  whistlin  thrang^        diligently 
An'   teach  the  lanely  heights  an'  howes  vaiieys 

My  rustic  sang. 

I'll  wander  on,  wi'   tentless  heed  careless 

How  never-halting  moments  speed, 


.liT.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  229 

Till  fate  shall  snap  the  brittle  thread  ; 

Then,  all  unknown, 
I'll  lay  me  with  th'   inglorious  dead, 

Forgot  and  gone  ! 

But  why  o'  death  begin  a  tale? 

Just  now  we're  living  sound  an'   hale; 

Then  top  and  maintop  crowd  the  sail, 

Heave  Care  o'er-side! 
And  large,  before  Enjoyment's  gale, 

Ivet's  tak  the  tide. 

This  life,   sae  far's  I  understand, 

Is  a'  enchanted  fairy-land,  an 

Where  Pleasure  is  the  magic-wand. 

That,  wielded  right, 
Maks  hours  like  minutes,   hand  in  hand, 

Dance  \>y  fu'  light.  fuu 

The  magic-wand  then  let  us  wield; 

For,  ance  that  five-an' -forty's  speeVd,  climbed 

See,   crazy,  weary,  joyless  eild,  oidage 

Wi'  wrinkl'd  face. 
Comes  hosti)i^  hirpii)i  ozvre  the  field,<^""e'""ff'^"np"'sl 

T T r ,  .  over  > 

14^1  creepin  pace.  ^^.m, 


once 


When  ance  life's  day  draws  near  the  gloamiu^  

Then  fareweel  vacant,   careless  roamin  ;         twilight 
An'   fareweel  chearfu'   tankards  foaiiiin, 

An'  social  noise  : 
An'   fareweel  dear,  deluding  woman, 

The  joy  of  joys  ! 

O  lyife  !  how  pleasant,   in  thy  moniing, 
Young  Fancy's  rays  the  liills  adorning  ! 


230  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [178& 

Cold-pausing  Caution's  lesson  scorning, 

We  frisk  away, 
Ivike  sckool-boys,  at  th'  expected  warning, 

To  joy  an'  play. 

We  wander  there,  we  wander  here, 
We  eye  the  rose  upon  the  brier. 
Unmindful  that  the  thorn  is  near. 

Among  the  leaves  ; 
And  tho'   the  puny  wound   appear, 

Short  while  it  gjjieves.* 

Some,  lucky,  find  a  flow'ry  spot. 

For  which  they  never  toil'd  nor  swat ;  sweated 

They  drink  the  sweet  and  eat  the  fat, 

But  care  or  pain  ;  without 

And  haply  eye  the  barren  hut 

With  high  disdain. 

With  steady  aim,  some  fortune  chase  ; 
Keen  hope  does  ev'r}'  sinew  brace  ; 
Thro'  fair,  thro'   foul,   they  urge  the  race, 

An'  seize  the  prey  : 
Then  cannie^  in  some  cozie  place,  quietly      snug 

They  close  the  day. 

And  others,  like  your  humble  servan' 

Poor  ivights  !  nac  rules  nor  roads  observin,  feUows     no 

To  right  or  left  eternal  swervin. 

They  zig-zag  on  ; 
Till,  curst  with  age,   obscure  an'  starvin. 

They  aften  groan.  often 


*  "  Where  can  we  find  a  more  exhilarating  enumeration  of  the  enjoyments  of 
youth  contrasted  ^with  their  successive  extinction  as  age  advances,  than  in  the 
Epistle  to  James  Smith  .?"— Professor  Walker. 


^^-  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  231 

Alas  !  what  bitter  toil  an'  strainino- — 

But  truce  with  peevish,  poor   complaining  I 

Is  fortune's  fickle  Luna  wanine? 

E'en  let  h^v  gattg  /  go 

Beneath  what  light  she  has  remaining, 

Let's  sing  our  sang. 

My  pen  I  here  fling  to  the  door, 

And  kneel,  ye  Pow'rs  !  and  warm  implore, 

"Tho'  I  should  wander  Terra  o'er, 

In  all  her  climes, 
Grant  me  but  this,   I  ask  no  more, 

Ay  rowih  d'  rhymes,     abundance  of 

"Gie^r^^/zV?^  roasts  to  comitra  /^?>rt'^,countoiand-own"rf} 
Till  icicles  king  frac  their  beards;  hang  from 

Gie  fine  brazv  claes  to  fine  life-guards,         gay  clothes 

And  maids  of  honor  ; 
An'  yill  an'  whisky  gie  to  cairds^    aie     give     tinkers 

Until     they    SCOniier.       are  nauseated 

"  A  title,   Dempster  *  merits  it ; 
A  garter  gie  to  Willie  Pitt  ;  f  give 

Gie  wealth  to  some  be-ledger'd  cit,  give 

In  cent,   per  cent.  ; 
But  give  me  real,   sterling  wit, 

And  I'm  content. 

**  While  ye  are  pleas'd  to  keep  me  hale, 
I'll  sit  down  o'er  my  scanty  meal, 
Be't  water-brose  or  viuslin-kail,  lenten  soup 

Wi'  chcarfu'   face, 
As  lang's  the  Muses  ditnia  fail  do  not 

To  say  the  grace." 

♦George  Dempster  of  Dnnnichen,  M.  P.,  a  distinguished  patriot  and  conspicu- 
ous orator  in  rarlianieiit,  referred  to  in  "  The  Author's  ICarnesl  Cry,"  p.  216. 

tWe  have  already  referred  to  the  poet's  partiality  at  this  period  for  both  Pitt 
and  his  father,  llie  ICarl  of  Chatham. -J.  H. 


232 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


[1786. 


An  anxious  e'e  1  never  throws 
Behint  my  lug^  or  by  my  nose  ;  * 
\  joiik  beneath  Misfortune's  blows 

As  weel's  I  may  ; 
Sworn  foe  to  sorrow,  care,  and  prose, 

I  rhyme  away. 


eye 

ear      past 
dodge 


O  ye  douce  folk  that  live  by  rule,  quietly  decent 

Grave,  tideless-blooded,   calm  an'  cool, 
Compar'd  wi'  you — O  fool  !  fool  !  fool  ! 

How  much   unlikts ! 
Your  hearts  are  just  a  standing  pool. 

Your  lives  a  dyke!  sod  fence 


Nae  hair-brain' d,  sentimental  traces 
In  your  unletter'd,  nameless  faces  ! 
In  arioso  trills  and  graces 

Ye  never  stray  ; 
But  gravissimOjt  solemn  basses 

Ye  hum  away. 

Ye  are  sae  grave,  nae  doubt  ye' re  wise  ; 

Nae  fcrly  tho'  ye  do  despise  wonder 

Til :  hiirum-scairtun^  rmn-stam  boys,  predpltete^^"*^} 

The  rattling  squad  : 
I  see  ye  upward  cast  your  eyes — 

Y^  ken  the  road !     know  the  way. 

(to  heaven)     J 


Whilst  I — but  I  shall  hand  me  there, 
Wi'  you  I'll  SQ.2iXQ.^  gang  ony  where — 
Then,  Jamie,  I  shall  say  nae   77tair^ 

But  qiiat   my  sang, 
Content  wi'  you  to  mak  a  pair, 

Whare'er  I  gang. 


hold  (stop) 

go 

no  more 

quit 


•  Never  cast  an  eye  behind  or  before  :  never  trouble  myself  with  past  or  fiolure. 
-J.  H. 
t  Accent  on  penult. 


^T.  28.  POEMvS   AND   vSONGS.  233 

[James  Smith,  the  person  here  addressed,  was  a  shopkeeper  iu 
Mauchline,  short  of  stature,  but  vigorous  in  mind.  From  what 
we  have  said  of  him  (p.  157,  supra)  as  the  "wag  in  Mauchline," 
celebrated  in  one  of  Burns'  cleverest  epigrams,  and  as  "fiscal" 
of  the  "Court  of  Equity"  held  at  the  Wliitefoord  Arms  Inn,  the 
reader  will  need  little  more  information  regarding  him.  lie  stood 
Burns'  friend  "through  thick  and  thin,"  when  he  got  into  diffi- 
culties early  in  the  Spring  of  1786,  in  relation  to  his  love-alliance 
with  Jean  Armour.  The  first  intimation  of  trouble  regarding  that 
affair  is  given  in  the  poet's  letter  to  Richmond,  17th  Pebruary, 
1786,  in  which  he  says:  "I  have  some  very  important  news  with 
respect  to  myself,  not  the  most  agreeable — news  that  I  am  sure 
you  cannot  guess,  but  I  shall  give  you  the  particulars  another 
time.  I  am  extremely  happy  with  Smith  ;  he  is  the  only  friend 
I  have  now  in  Mauchline."  Smith  afterwards  had  a  calico-printing 
manufactory  at  Avon,  near  Linlithgow,  but  proved  unsuccessful. 
It  was  his  fate  to  end  life  sooner  even  than  our  poet,  and  in  the 
very  place  where  Burns  at  one  time  expected  to  end  his  —  the 
West  Indies.] 

(This  is  a  specimen  of  these  epistles,  the  style  of  which  was 
suggested  to  Burns  by  the  corresponding  epistles  of  Hamilton  of 
Gilbertfield,  Allan  Ramsay,  and  his  favorite  Fergusson.  "A  type 
of  a  much  higher  kind,"  says  Waddell,  "although  certainly  un- 
known to  Burns,  is  recognizable  in  the  Odes  of  Horace.  The 
metre  itself  most  favorite  with  him,  although  not  exactly  the  same, 
is  very  similar  to  that  of  Burns  in  his  Epistles  ;  but  the  simi- 
larity of  style,  in  thought,  in  sententious  philosophy,  in  epigram- 
matic reflection,  in  discursive  sally,  converting  themselves  insensil)ly 
to  proverbial  utterances,  is  so  remarkable  that  it  could  be  fairly 
illustrated  only  by  parallel  quotations  of  entire  passages."  .  .  . 
Little  does  "the  scholar,  engrossed  with  classical  lore,  .  .  .  ima- 
gine that  all  this  philosophy  (of  Horace)  has  been  reproduced  and 
broadened  by  an  Ayrshire  ploughman,  in  a  rude  northern  dialect — 
diversified  by  endless  variety  of  observation,  enriched  with  a  geni- 
ality of  humor  of  which  Horace  was  incapable,  and  sweetened  with 
a  teiulemess  of  sympathy  absolutely  foreign  to  his  selfish  Roman 
nature."— J.  II.) 


234 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


[178^ 


THE  VISION. 

(Kii^MARNOCK  Ed.,  1786.) 
DUAN   FIRST.* 

The  sun  had  clos'd  the  winter  day, 
The  curlers  qiiat  their  roarin  play,t 
And  hunger' d  maukin  taen  her  way, 

To  kail-yards  green, 
While  faithless  snaws  ilk  step  betray 

Wliare  she  has  been. 


quitted 

hare  taken 

kitchen  gardens 

snows  each 


The  thresher's  votary  Jlingiit-tree^ 
The  lee-lang  day  had  tired  me  ; 
And  when  the  day  had  closed  his  e' e 

Far  i'  the  west, 
Ben  i'  the  spence,|  right  pensivelie, 

I  gaed  to  rest. 


flail 

whole  long 

eye 


went 


There,  lanely  by  the  ingle-cheeky  fireside 

I  sat  and  ey'd  the  spczving  reek^      smoke  vomiting  forth 
That  fill'd,  wi'  ^^^^/-provoking  smeek,  cough     smoke 
The  auld  clay  biggin;  building 

An'  heard  the  restless  rations  squeak  rats 

About    the    riggin.  thatched  roof 


All  in  this  mottie^  misty  clime. 
I  backward  mus'd  on  wasted  time. 


mucky 


*  Duan,  a  term  of  Ossian's  for  the  diiTerent  divisions  of  a  digressive  poem.  See 
his  Cath-Iyoda,  vol.  2,  of  M'Pherson's  translation. — R.  B. 

\  Not  only  from  the  hilarity  of  the  game,  but  from  the  roaring  sound  of  the 
curling-stone  along  the  hollow  ice. 

\  In  Scotland  formerly  the  ordinary  farm-house  had  but  two  aparttnents  on  the 
ground  floor,  the  but,  or  outer  apartment  or  kitchen,  and  the  ben,  or  inner  apart- 
ment, spence  or  parlor.  The  farm-house  of  Mossgiel  was  of  this  description, 
Ben  is  here  used  as  a  preposition — within. — J.  H. 


^er.  28.]  rcEMS  and  songs.  235 

How  I  had  spent  my  youthfu'  prime, 

An'  done  naething, 
But  stringing  blethers  up  in  riiyme,  nonsense 

For  fools  to  siuQf. 

o 

Had  I  to  guid  advice  but    harket^  hearkenec 

I  might,  by  this,   hae  led  a  market,* 

Or  strutted  in  a  bank  and  clarket  clerked 

My  cash-account  ; 
While  here,  half-mad,  half-fed,  \i2M-sarket^      shirted 

Is  a'   th'  amount. 

I  started,  mutt' ring  "blockhead!  coo/f''  ass 

An'    heav'd    on    high    my    Wauket  loof   toil-hardened  palm 

To  swear  by  a'  yon  starry  roof. 

Or  some  rash   aith^  oath 

That  I  henceforth  wad  be  rhyme-proof  would 

Till  my  last  breath — 

When  click  !  •   the  string  the  snick  did  draw  ;    latch 

An'    jee !  the  door   gaed  to  the  wa'  ;      open     went 

An'  by  my  ingle-lowe\  saw,  flame  of  my  fire 

Now  bleczin   bright,  blazing 

A    tight,    outlandish  hh.jie^    (^^(^Zf/  foreign-looking  female  fine 

Come  full  in  sight. 

Ye  need  na  doubt,   I  held  my  whisht ;  was  sdu 

The  infant  aith,  half- form' d,  was  crusht ;  oath 

I  glowr'd  as  eerie' s  I'd  been  diisht,t 

In  some  wild  glen  ; 
When  sweet,   like  modest  Worth,  she  bluslit, 

An'  stepped  ben.  in 


•Farmers  of  especial  wealth  and  inniicnce  willi  tlicir  class  arc  said  to  "lead 
the  markets."— J.  II. 

t  Affected  with  mysterious  awe,  I  stared  as  if  I  were  stupefied  and  speechless 
with  Amazement. — ^J.  H. 


236  POEMS  AND   vSONGS.  [1786. 

Green,  slender,  leaf-clad  holly-boughs 
Were  twisted,  gracefii' ,   round  her  brows  ; 
I  took  her  for  some  Scottish  Muse, 

By  that  same  token  ; 
And  come  to  stop  those  reckless  vows. 

Would  soon  been  broken. 

A  "  hair-brain' d,  sentimental  trace"* 
Was  strongly  marked  in  her  face  ; 
A  wildly-witty,   rustic  grace 

Shone  full  upon  h^r ; 
Her  eye,  ev'n  tum'd  on  empty  space, 

Beam'd  keen  with  honor,  f 

Down  flow'd  her  robe,  a  tartan  sheen, 

Till  half  a  leg  was  scrhnply  seen  ;  barely 

An'  such  a  leg !  my  bonie  Jean  % 

Could  only  peer  it  ; 

_.  ,  -All  straight   > 

Sae  straughty  sae  taper,   tight  an    clean — weii-made 
Nane  else  came  near  it. 

Her  mantel  large,  of  greenish  hue. 

My  gazing  wonder  chiefly  drew ; 

Deep  lights  and  shades,  bold-mingling,  threw 

A  lustre  grand  ; 
And  seem'd,   to  my  astonish' d  view, 

A  well-known  land. 


*A  quotation  from  his  own  words  in  the  preceding-  epistle  to  James  Smith, 
page  232. 

tThis  couplet  was  a  great  favorite  with  Dr.  Chalmers,  who  referred  to  it  as 
the  description  of  an  eye  too  divine  for  fallen  humanity  to  possess. 

f'My  bonie  Jean."  About  the  month  of  January  or  February  17S6,  when,  as 
*-e  conjecture,  this  poem  was  composed,  these  words  must  have  stood  as  in  the 
text.  But  when  his  poems  were  at  the  press,  the  author's  irritation  on  her  account 
caused  him  to  alter  the  words  to  "  my  Bess,  I  ween," — and  so  they  stand  in  the 
Kilmarnock  edition  :  but  in  1787,  that  irritation  having  subsided,  Jean  was  re- 
stored to  her  place  of  honor  in  the  poem. 

(When  Burns  was  alienated  from  Jean  Armour  he  became  betrothed  to  Mary 
Campbell— his  "  Highland  Mary."  Why,  then,  did  he  not  substitute  her  name 
for  that  of  Jean  ?  Burns'  feeling  of  delicacy  prevented  this,  and  the  verj'  omis- 
sion furnishes  the  best  evidence  of  Mary's  purity.  His  Bess  and  Jean  had  both 
compromised  themselves  ;  Mary  never.  She  could  not  be  named  in  connection 
with  an  allusion  even  suggestive  of  indelicacy. — J.  H.) 


^T.  2S.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  237 

Here,   rivers  in  the  sea  were  lost  ; 

There,   mountains  to  the  skies  were  toss't : 

Here,   tumbling  billows  mark'd  the  coast, 

With  surging  foam  ; 
There,  distant  shone  Art's  lofty  boast, 

The  lordly  dome. 

Here,  Doon  pour'd  down  his  far- fetch' d  floods  ; 
There,  well-fed  Irwine  stately  thuds ;  sounds 

Auld  hermit  Ayr  staw  thro'  his  woods,  stole 

On  to  the  shore  ; 
And  many  a  lesser  torrent  scuds, 

With  seeming  roar.* 

Low,  in  a  sandy  valley  spread, 

An  ancient  borough  rear'd  her  head  ;t 

Still,  as  in  Scottish  story  read, 

She  boasts  a  race 
To  ev'ry  nobler  virtue  bred. 

And  polish' d  grace.  J 

[By  stately  tow'r,  or  palace  fair. 

Or  ruins  pendent  in  the  air. 

Bold  stems  of  heroes,  here  and  there, 

I  could  discern  ; 
Some  seem'd  to  muse,  some  seem'd  to  dare, 

With  feature  stern. 

My  heart  did  glowing   transport  feel. 
To  see  a  race  heroic  §  wheel, 

•Burns  more  than  once  complains  (see  p.  117)  that  while  the  Tay,  Forth,  Et- 
trick,  Tweed  and  other  Scottish  streams  flowed  to  the  sea  to  the  sound  of  music 
sweeter  than  their  own,  no  one  had  suuk'  the  streams  of  Ayrshire. — J.  H. 

tAyr,  whose  charter  dates  from  the  be.afinning  of  the  thirteenth  century.— J.  II. 

\  Here,  in  the  first  edition,  Dtian  First  came  to  a  close  ;  the  additional  seven 
stanzas  were  appended  in  the  second  edition,  apparently  in  compliment  to  Mrs 
Dunlop  and  other  influential  friends  of  the  author. 

I  The  descendants  of  Wallace,  the  Scottish  patriot-hero.— J.  H. 


238  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [178G. 

And  brandish  round  the  deep-dyed  steel, 

In  sturdy  blows ; 
While,  back-recoiling,  seem'd  to  reel 

Their  SUthron  foes,    southern  or  English 


His  Country's  Saviour,*  mark  him  well! 
Bold  Richard  ton's  heroic  swell  ;t 
The  chief,  on  Sark  who  glorious  fell  J 

In  high  command  ; 
And  he  whom  ruthless  fates  expel  > 

His  native  land. 


There,  where  a  sceptr'd  Pictish  shade 
Stalk' d  round  his  ashes  lowly  laid,  § 
I  mark'd  a  martial  race,  pourtray'd 

In  colors  strong  : 
Bold,  soldier- featur'd,  undismay'd. 

They  strode  along. 


Thro'  many  a  wild,  romantic  grove,  I| 
Near  many  a  hennit-fancied  cove 
(Fit  haunts  for  friendship  or  for  love, 

In  musing  mood), 
An  aged  Judge,   I  saw  him  rove. 

Dispensing  good. 


*  William  Wallace.—/?.  B. 

t  Adam  Wallace  of  Richardton,  cousin  to  the  immortal  preserver  of  Scottish 
independence. — R.  B. 

I  Wallace,  laird  of  Craigie,  who  was  second  in  command,  under  Douglas,  Earl 
of  Ormond,  at  the  famous  Battle  on  the  banks  of  Sark,  fought  in  1448.  The  glori- 
ous victory  was  principally  owing  to  the  judicious  conduct  and  intrepid  valor  of 
the  gallant  laird  of  Craigie,  who  died  of  his  wounds  after  the  action. — R.  B. 

§  Coilus,  King  of  the  Picts,  from  whom  the  district  of  Kyle  is  said  to  take  its 
name,  lies  buried,  as  tradition  says,  near  the  family  seat  of  the  Montgomeries 
of  Coilsfield,  where  his  burial  place  is  still  shown. — R.  B.  See  note  on  "  Twa 
Dogs,"  p.  203. 

\  Barskimraing,  the  seat  of  the  Lord  Justice-Clerk.—/?.  B.  (Sir  Thomas  Miller 
of  Glenlee,  afterwards  President  of  the  Court  of  Session.) 


^T.  28.]  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  239 

With  deep-struck,  reverential  awe, 
The  learned  Sire  and  Son  I  saw  :  * 
To  nature's  God,  and  Nature's  law, 

They  gave  their  lore  ; 
This,  all  its  source  and  end  to  draw, 

That,   to  adore. 


Bry don's  brave  ward  f  I  well  could  spy, 
Beneath  old  Scotia's  smiling  eye  ; 
Who  call'd  on  Fame,  low  standing  by, 

To  hand  him  on. 
Where  many  a  patriot-name  on  high, 

And  hero  shone.] 


DUAN    SECOND. 

With  musing-deep,  astonish' d  staxe, 
I  view'd  the  heavenly-seeming  Fair  ; 
A  whispering  throb  did  witness  bear 

Of  kindred  sweet, 
When  with  an  elder  sister's  air 

She  did  me  greet. 

'  All  hail  !  my  own  inspired  bard  ! 
In  me  thy  native  Muse  regard  ; 
Nor  longer  mourn  thy  fate  is  hard, 
Thus  poorly  low  ; 
I  come  to  give  thee  such  reward, 
As  we  bestow  ! 


*  Catrine,  the  seat  of  the  late  Doctor  and  present  Professor  Stewart.— i?.  B.  The 
father  of  Dugald  Stewart  was  eminent  in  Mathematics. 

t  Colonel  Fnllarton.— /?.  i9.  He  had  travelled  under  the  care  of  Patrick  nry- 
done,  author  of  a  well-known  publication,  "A  Tour  through  Sicily  and  MalU." 
The  Duke  of  Portland  now  owns  Kullarton  House  and  broad  acres. 


-40  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [1786. 

' '  Know,  the  great  genius  of  this  land 
Has  many  a  light  aerial  band, 
Who,  all  beneath  his  high  command, 

Harmoniously, 
As  arts  or  arms  they  understand, 

Their  labors  ply. 

"They  Scotia's  race  among  them  share: 
Some  fire  the  soldier  on  to  dare  ; 
Some  rouse  the  patriot  up  to  bare 

Corruption's  heart : 
Some  teach  the  bard — a  darling  care — 

The  tuneful  art. 

' ' '  Mong  swelling  floods  of  reeking  gore, 
They,  ardent,  kindling  spirits  pour  ; 
Or,   'mid  the  venal  senate's  roar. 

They,  sightless^  stand  unseen 

To  mend  the  honest  patriot-lore. 

And  grace  the  hand. 

*'And  when  the  bard,  or  hoary  sage, 
Charm  or  instruct  the  future  age. 
They  bind  the  wild  poetic  rage 

In  energy, 
Or  point  the  inconclusive  page 

Full  on  the  eye.* 

"Hence,   Fullarton,  the  brave  and  young; 
Hence,  Dempster's  zeal-inspired  tongue  ;  f 
Hence,  sweet,  harmonious  Beattie  sung 

His  '  Minstrel  '  lays  ; 
Or  tore,  with  noble  ardor  stung. 

The  sceptic's  bays. 

♦This  stanza  was  added  in  the  second  edition  (1787). 
+  See  note  on  Epistle  to  James  Smith,  see  p.  231. 


-/.OI81V  aiiT 

ii;ri  IJiT 


THE  VISION— 

"  Down  flow'd  her  robe,  a  tartan  sheen, 
Till  half  a  leg  was  scrim  ply  seen." 


I 


^7.  28.]  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  2-4] 

"To  lower  orders  are  assign' d 
The  humbler  ranks  of  human-kind, 
The  rustic  bard,   the  laboring  hind, 

The  arti.san  ; 
All  chuse,  as  various  they're  inclin'd 

The  various  man, 

*'When  yellow  waves  the  heavy  grain, 
The  threat' ning  storm  some  strongly  rein  ; 
Some  teach  to  meliorate  the  plain, 

With  tillage-skill  ; 
And  some  instruct  the  shepherd-train, 

Blythe  o'er  the  hill.  cheerful 

*'Some  hint  the  lover's  harmless  wile  ; 
Some  grace  the  maiden's  artless  smile ; 
Some  soothe  the  laborer's  weary  toil 

For  humble  gains. 
And  make  his  cottage-scenes  beguile 

His  cares  and  pains. 

*'  Some,  bounded  to  a  district-space, 
Explore  at  large  man's  infant  race, 
To  mark  the  embryotic  trace 

Of  rustic  bard  ; 
And  careful  note  each  opening  grace, 

A  guide  and  guard. 

*'0f  these  am  I — Coila  my  name:* 

And  this  district  as  mine  I  claim. 

Where  once  the  Campbells,  f  chiefs  of  fame, 

Held  ruling  j^ow'r  : 

I  mark'd  thy  embryo-tuneful   flame. 

Thy  natal  hour. 
/  . 

•  Bums  acknowledsres  havinfj  obtained  the  idea  of  thi.s  visionary  from  the 
"Scota"  of  Alex.  Ross,  n  Mearns  poet,  and  author  of  a  pastoral  of  some  merit 
entitled   Thf  Fortiiiial,-  SlirphrrJcss.     Ross  mnst  have  read  C.ny  to  purpose.- -J.  II. 

+  Tlie   Loudon     l)::ii!;li  of  the  Campbells  iii  here  referred  to. 

I.  P 


242  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  I1786, 

* '  With  future  hope  I  oft  would  gaze 
Fond,  on  thy  little  early  ways, 
Thy  rudely  caroU'd,  chiming  phrase, 

In  uncouth  rhymes  ; 
Fir'd  at  the  simple,  artless  lays 

Of  other  times. 


**  I  saw  thee  seek  the  sounding  shore, 
Delighted  with  the  dashing  roar  ; 
Or  when  the  North  his  fleecy  store 

Drove  thro'  the  sl^, 
I  saw  grim  Nature's  visage  hoar 

Struck  thy  young  eye. 


"Or  when  the  deep  green-mantled  earth 
Warm  cherish'd  ev'ry   floweret's  birth, 
And  joy  and  music  pouring  forth 

In  ev'ry  grove  ; 
I  saw  thee  eye  the  general  mirth 

With  boundless  love. 


**When  ripen' d  fields  and  azure  skies 
Call'd  forth  the  reapers'  rustling  noise, 
I  saw  thee  leave  their  ev'ning  joys, 

And  lonely  stalk, 
To  vent  thy  bosom's  swelling  rise, 

In  pensive  walk. 


'When  youthful  love,  wann-blushing,  strong, 
Keen-shivering,  shot  thy  nerves  along, 
Those  accents  grateful  to  thy  tongue, 

Th'  adored  Name, 
I  taught  thee  how  to  pour  in  song. 

To  soothe  thy  flame. 


sir    r8.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  243 

"I  saw  tliy  pulse's  maddening  play, 
Wild  send  thee  Pleasure's  devious  way, 
Misled  by  Fancy's  meteor- ray, 

By  passion  driven  ; 
But  yet  the  light  that  led  astray 

Was  light  from  Heaven. 

"I  taught  thy  manners-painting  strains, 
The  loves,  the  ways  of  simple  swains, 
Till  now,  o'er  all  my  wide  domains 

Thy  fame  extends  ; 
And  some,  the  pride  of  Coiia's  plains. 

Become  thy  friends.* 

*'Thou  canst  not  learn,  nor  can  I  show, 
To  paint  with  Thomson's  landscape  glow  ; 
Or  wake  the  bosom-melting  throe. 

With  Shenstone's  art ; 
Or  pour,  with  Gray,  the  moving  flow 

Warm  on  the  heart. 

"Yet,  all  beneath  th'  unrivall'd  rose, 
The  lowly  daisy  sweetly  blows  ; 
Tho'  large  the  forest's  monarch  throws 

His  army-shade, 
Yet  green  the  juicy  hawthorn  grows, 
Adown  the  glade. 

"Then  never  murmur  nor  repine; 
Strive  in  thy  humble  sphere  to  shine ; 


•  Burns  enjoyed  local  fame  even  before  he  imblislicd  his  Kilmarnock  edition. 
He  gave  copies  of  his  poems  freely  around.  In  particular  he  committed  many  of 
them  to  the  care  of  Ktr.  Aiken,  Gavin  Hamilton's  advocate,  and  also  tax  collec- 
tor, Ayr.  (See  Inventory).  Mr.  Aiken  read  them  to  all  whom  he  thought  likely 
to  appreciate  them,  giving  them  the  benefit  of  his  elocution,  which  all  acknowl- 
edge to  have  had  a  wonderful  effect.  Uurns  himself  says,  "  Mr.  Aiken  read  me 
into  fame."  We  can  thus  see  how  his  fame  extended  over  "all  Coiia's  wide  do- 
mains."— J.   II. 


244  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  {.1700. 

And  trust  me,  not  Potosi's  mine, 

Nor  king's  regard, 
Can  give  a  bliss  o'ermatching  thine, 

A  rustic  bard. 


**To  give  my  counsels  all  in  one, 
Thy  tuneful  flame  still  careful  fan  : 
Preserve  the  dignity  of  Man, 

With  soul  erect ; 
And  trust  the  Universal  Plan 

Will  all  protect.     ^ 

*' And  wear  thou  this  " — she  solemn  said, 
And  bound  the  holly  round  my  head : 
The  polish' d  leaves  and  berries  red 

Did  rustling  play  ; 
And,  like  a  passing  thought,  she  fled 

In  light  away. 


[In  a  letter  which  Burns  addressed  to  Mrs.  Dunlop  from  Edin- 
burgh, on  15th  January,  1787,  he  enclosed  the  seven  concluding 
stanzas  of  Uuan  first,  as  in  the  text,  and  wrote  as  follows  : — "I 
have  not  composed  anything  on  the  great  Wallace,  except  what 
you  have  seen  in  print,  and  the  enclosed,  which  I  will  print  in 
this  edition.  You  will  see  I  have  mentioned  some  others  of  the 
name.  When  I  composed  my  '  Vision  '  long  ago,  I  had  attempted 
a  description  of  Kyle,  of  which  the  additional  stanzas  are  a  part, 
as  it  originally  stood." 

To  another  patroness — Mrs.  Stewart,  of  Stair — he  had  presented 
a  manuscript  book  of  ten  leaves,  folio,  containing,  along  with 
several  early  poems,  a  copy  of  the  Vision.  That  copy  embraces 
abotit  twenty  stanzas  which  he  cancelled  when  he  came  to  print  the 
piece  in  his  Kilmarnock  volume.  Seven  of  these,  as  we  have  seen, 
he  restored  in  printing  his  second  edition,  and  the  remainder  of  the 
suppressed  verses  we  now  append.  The  ten  leaves  of  the  poet's 
handwriting  just  referred  to  are  generally  styled  the  "Stair  manu- 
script." It  was  purchased  by  the  late  Mr.  Dick,  bookseller  in  Ayr, 
from  the  grandson  of  Mrs.  Stewart,  of  Stair  ;  and,  since  Mr.  Dick's 
decease,  it  has  been  cut  asunder  and  sold  piecemeal  by  his 
.•representatives. 


^T.  28.]  POEMS   AND   vSONGS.  245 

Referring  to  the  suppressed  stanzas  of  the  '  Vision,'  Chambers 
thus  observes: — "It  is  a  curious  and  vahiable  document  —  valuable 
for  an  unexpected  reason,  namely,  its  proving  what  might  other- 
wise be  doubted,  that  Burns  was  not  incapable  of  writing  weakly. 
The  whole  of  the  inedited  stanzas  are  strikingly  of  this  character. 
Perhaps  there  is,  after  all,  a  second  and  a  greater  importance  in 
the  document,  as  showing  how,  with  the  capability  of  writing 
ineffectively,  his  taste  was  so  unerring  as  to  prevent  him  from 
publishing  a  single  line  that  was  not  fitted  to  command  respect ; 
for  every  one  of  the  poor  stanzas  has  been  thrown  out  on  sending 
the  poem  to  the  press."] 


SUPPRESSED  STANZAS  OF   "THE  VISION." 
(Chambers,  1852.) 

After  eighteenth  stanza  of  the  text  : — 

With  secret  throes  I  marked  that  earth, 
That  cottage,  witness  of  my  birth; 
And  near  I  saw,  bold  issuing  forth 

In  youthful  pride, 
A  Lindsay  race  of  noble  worth. 

Famed  far  and  wide. 

Where,  hid  behind  a  spreading  wood, 
An  ancient  Pict-built  mansion  stood, 
1  spied,  .among  an  angel  brood, 

A  female  pair  ; 
Sweet  shone  their  high  maternal  blood. 

And  father's  air.* 

An  ancient  tower  t  to  memory  brought 
How  Dettingen's  bold  hero  fought; 
Still,  far  from  sinking  into  nought. 

It  owns  a  lord 
Who  far  in  western  climates  fought, 

With  trusty  sword 

Among  the  rest  I  well  could  spy 
One  gallant,  graceful,  martial  boy, 
The  soldii-r  sparkled  in  his  eye, 

A  diamond  water ; 
I  blest  tliat  noble  badge  with  joy 

That  owned  mc  /rater.  \ 


*  Sundrum.— ^.  B.  Hnmillou  of  Suudrum  was  m.irried  to  a  sister  ol  Colonel 
Montgomerie  of  Coilsfield. 

t  Stair.— iV.  /{.  That  old  mansion  was  then  possessed  by  C.cneral  Stewart  and 
his  lady,  to  whom  the  MS.  was  presented. 

I  Captain  James  Montgomerie,  Master  of  St.  James'  I.odge,  Tarbolton,  to  which 
the  author  has  the  honor  to  belong.— A'.  //. 


246  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [1786 


After  twentieth  stanza  of  the  text : — 

Near  by  arose  a  mansion  fine,  * 
The  seat  of  many  a  muse  divine ; 
Not  rustic  muses  such  as  mine, 

With  holly  crown'd, 
But  th'  ancient,  tuneful,  laurell'd  Nine, 

From  classic  ground. 

I  mourn'd  the  card  that  Fortune  dealt. 
To  see  where  bonie  Whitefoords  dwelt ;  f 
But  other  prospects  made  me  melt, 

That  village  near  ;  J 
There  Nature,  Friendship,  I,ove,  I  felt, 

Fond-mingling  dear! 

Hail !  Nature's  pang,  more  strong  than  Death ! 
Warm  Friendship's  glow,  like  kindling  wrath! 
lyove,  dearer  than  the  parting  breath 

Of  dying  friend ! 
Not  ev'n  with  life's  wild  devious  path. 

Your  force  shall  end  ! 

The  Pow'r  that  gave  the  soft  alarms 
In  blooming  Whitefoord's  rosy  charms. 
Still  threats  the  tiny,  feather'd  arms. 

The  barbed  dart, 
While  lovely  Wilhelminia  warms 

The  coldest  heart.  § 


After  twenty-first  stanza  of  the  text : — 

Where  Lugar  leaves  his  moorland  plaid,  | 
Where  lately  Want  was  idly  laid, 
I  marked  busy,  bustling  Trade, 

In  fervid  flame, 
Beneath  a  Patroness's  aid. 

Of  noble  name. 


Wild,  countless  hills  I  could  survey, 
And  countless  flocks  as  wild  as  they; 
But  other  scenes  did  charms  display. 

That  better  please, 
Where  polish'd  manners  dwell  with  Gray, 

In  rural  ease.'** 


Where  Cessnock  pours  with  gurgling  sound ;  ft 
And  Irwine,  marking  out  the  bound. 


*  Auchinleck.— /?.  B.  f  Ballochmyle.  \  Mauchline. 

\  A  compliment  to  Miss  Wilhelmina  Alexander  as  successor,   in  that  locality 
to  Miss  Maria  Whitefoord. 

n  Cumnock.—/?.  B.  **  Mr.  Farquhar  Gray.— .^.  B. 

tt  Auchinskieth.— /?.  B. 


^r.  28.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  247 

Enamor'tl  of  the  scenes  around, 

Slow  runs  his  race, 
A  name  I  doubly  honor'd  found,  * 

With  knightly  grace. 

Brydon's  brave  ward,  t  I  saw  him  stand, 
Fame  humbly  offering  her  hand. 
And  near,  his  kinsman's  rustic  band,  X 

With  one  accord, 
lyamenting  their  late  blessed  land 

Must  change  its  lord. 

The  owner  of  a  pleasant  spot, 
Near  sandy  wilds,  I  last  did  note ;  § 
A  heart  too  warm,  a  pulse  too  hot 

At  times,  o'erran ; 
But  large  in  ev'ry  feature  wrote, 

Appear'd,  the  Man. 


The  greater  portion  of  the  MS.  of  these  "suppressed  stanzas"  is 
in  the  possession  of  Robert  Jardine,  Esq.,  of  Castlemilk,  Dumfries- 
shire.] 

(The  Vision  is  remarkable  in  various  ways.  Irrespective  of  its 
being  a  monument  of  Burns'  creative  genius,  it  shows  us  that  he 
could  already  express  himself  with  elegance  and  ease  in  pure 
English,  as  also  that  he  had  a  just  appreciation  of  his  proper 
calling,  and  a  modest  confidence  in  his  own  powers  and  the  jilace 
he  was  destined  to  occupy  in  the  literature  of  his  countr}-.  Be  it 
observed  that  this  poem  was  produced  before  the  publication  of  his 
Kilmarnock  edition,  and  therefore  the  voice  of  the  general  ptiblic 
had  not  yet  endorsed  him  as  the  "bard  of  Caledonia."  Stanza  18 
of  Duan  2  has  been  objected  to  as  a  too  daring  vindication  of  his 
errors.  It  may  be  so,  yet  the  charge  savors  of  ingratitude  ;  for 
undoubtedly  those  very  passions  which  led  him  astray  contributed 
much  to  the  vigor  and  unrivalled  richness  and  sweetness  of  his 
songs.  His  own  larks  and  linnets,  thrushes  and  "merles,"  sang 
ever  clearest  and  fullest  in  the  halcyon  mouths  of  spring,  when 
they  warbled  to  charm  ^heir  dearies. — J.  II.) 


*  Caprington. — /?.  B. 

t  Colonel  I-'ullarton  (see  note  p.  239). — R.  B. 

tDr.  Fullartou.— /?.  .fi.  jOrangefield.— ^.  A 


248 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


[1786. 


THE  RANTIN  DOG,  THE  DADDIE  O'T. 

Tujie. — "  Whare  '11  our  gudeman  lie.' 
(Johnson's  Museum,  1790.) 

O  WHA  my  babie-douts  will  buy? 
O  wha  will  tent  me   when  I  cry  ?* 
Wha  will  kiss  me  where  I  lie? 

The  7-antin  dog,  the  daddie  oH.      frolicking     ©fit 


baby-cloths  > 
{infants  first  dress > 


O  wha  will  own  he  did  the  faut  ?  fault 

O  wha  will  buy  the  groanin  maut  ?  f  child-birth  mait 
O  wha  will  tell  me  how  to  caH?  name  it 

The    rantin    dog,    the    daddie    o't. 

When  I  mount  the  crecpie-chair^  penance-stooi 

Wha  will  sit  beside  me  there? 
Gie  me  Rob,   I'll  seek  nae  mair^         give     no  more 
The  rantin  dog,  the  daddie  o't. 


Wha  will  crack  to  me  7ny  lane? 
Wha  will  mak  m^Jidgin  fain  ? 
Wha  will  kiss  me  o'er  again? 
The  rantin  dog,  the  daddie  o't. 


chat       alone 
eagerly  fond 


[The  poet  attached  the  following  note  to  this  production  in  the 
copy  of  the  "  Museum  "  which  belonged  to  his  friend  Mr.  Riddell  : 
■ — "I  composed  this  song  pretty  early  in  life,  and  sent  it  to  a  young 
girl,  a  particular  acquaintance  of  mine,  who  was  at  that  time  under 
a  cloud." 

Although  previous  annotators  have  held  this  to  apply  to  Betty 
Paton,  our  conjecture  is  that  the  young  girl  here  referred  to  was 
Jean  Armour,  and  the  period  —  early  in  1786,  when  the  state 
of  matters  between  them  could  no  longer  be  concealed.]  (Lockhart 
condemns  the  above  song,  and  says  it  "exhibits  the  poet  as  glory- 
ing, and  only  glorying  in  his  shame."      Sir  Harris  Nicolas,  on  the 


*Who  will  attend  to  or  nurse  me  when  I  am  in  child-bed? — J.  H. 

t  Refreshments  for  the  "  howdie  "  (midwife)  and  "  kimmers  "  or  gossipti. — J.  H. 


MT.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS-  249 

*»ther  hand,  says  that  both  this  song  and  the  "Poet's  Welcome," 
referring  to  a  prior  occasion  of  the  same  kind,  "are  remarkable 
for  the  tenderness  they  breathe  towards  infant  and  mother  alike." 
Waddell  regards  the  song  as  "the  most  perfect  specimen  of  the 
Scottish  tongue  ever  written  by  Burns,"  and  as  detailing  "the  cir- 
cumstances of  such  a  painful  situation  with  absolute  pictorial 
fidelity."— J.  II.) 


HERE'S  HIS  HEALTH  IN  WATER. 

Tune. — "The  Job  of  Journey-work." 
(Johnson's  Museum,  1796.) 

Altho'  my  back  be  at  the  wa',* 

And  tho'  he  be  \\\Q:  fautor ;  wnner 

i^^tho'   my  back  be  at  the  wa', 

Yet,  here's  his  health  in  water. 
O  wae  gac  by  his  wanton  sides,  woe  wonh 

Sae  brawlic'  s  he  could  flatter  finely 

Till  for  his  sake  I'm  slighted  sair.,  sore 

And  dree  the  kintra  clatter:  endure  country  scandal 
But  tho'   my  back  be  at  the  wa'. 

Yet  here's  his  health  in  water  ! 


[Another  verse  of  this  song,  although  not  in  the  poet's  hand- 
writing, was  found  among  the  numerous  scraps  which  were  for- 
warded to  the  late  Mr.  Pickering  ;  but  as  its  genuineness  cannot 
be  ascertained,  we  consign  it  to  small  type : — 


He  follow'd  itic  b.iitli  out  an'  in — 

The  dfil  hart  could  I  haflle'ni !  deuce  n  bit 

He  follow'd  riic  baitli  out  an'  in, 

Thro'  a'  the  neuks  o'  Mauchlin  :  corners 

And  whan  he  i^al  mr  hi  his  f;'''P^,  \&\A  hold  of  me 

Sac  hni7cly  did  he  flatter,  finely 

That  had  a  saint  been  in  my  stead, 

'     She'd  been  as  fjreat  &  fan  tor :  sinner 

But  let  them  say  cr  let  them  do, 

Here's  Robin's  health  in  water ! 


•Although  just  now  I  am  under  a  cloud— J.  H. 


250 


POEMS  ANJ)  SONGS. 


[1786. 


Steuhouse,  in  his  note  to  this  song,  states  that  Burns  threw  it 
off  in  jocular  allusion  to  his  own  and  Jean  Armour's  awkward 
predicament  before  their  marriage.  Allan  Cunningham,  however, 
denounces  the  suggestion  as  barbarous  and  insulting  to  both  the 
lovers.  For  our  part,  we  see  no  flagrant  inaptitude  in  the  conjec- 
ture of  Stenhouse.] 


ADDRESS    TO    THE    UNCO    GUID,  "ncommonly. 

'  good  j 

OR  THE   RIGIDLY   RIGHTEOUS. 

(Edinburgh  Ed.,  1787.) 

My  Son,  these  maxims  make  a  rule, 

An'  lump  them  ay  thegither ; 
The  Rigid  Righteous  is  a  fool, 

The  Rigid  Wise  anither  : 
The  cleanest  corn  that  e'er  was  dight  fanned 

May  hae  some  pyles  o'  caff  in  ;  particles        chaS 

So  ne'er  a  fellow-creature  slight 

For  random  fits  o'  daffin.  frolicking 

Solomon— Eccles.  ch.  vii.  verse  16. 


O  YE  wlia  are  sae  giiid  yoursel, 

Sae  pious  and  sae  lioly, 
Ye've  nought  to  do  but  mark  and  tell 

Your  neibours'  faiits  and  folly  ! 
Wliase  life  is  like  a  wccl-gaun  mill, 

Supplied  wi'  store  o'  water  ; 
The  heapet  happer's  ebbing  still, 

An'  still  the  clap  plays  clatter. 


so  good 


faults 
well-going 


Hear  me,  ye  venerable  core, 

As  counsel  for  poor  mortals 
That  frequent  pass  douce  Wisdom's   door    prudent 

For  glaikit  Folly's  portals  :  giddy 

I,  for  their  thoughtless,   careless   sakes, 

Would  here  propone  defences —  state 

Their  do7isie  tricks,  their  black  mistakes     ^oraiiy  ^ 

Their  failings  and  mischances. 


unlucky 


.^T.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  1251 

Ye  see  your  state  wi'   theirs  compared, 

And  sliudder  at  the  niffcr ;  exchanee 

But  cast  a  moment's  fair  regard, 
What  maks  the  mighty  differ  ? 

Discount  what  scant  occasion  gave, 
That  purity  ye  pride  in  ; 

And  (what's  aft  mair  than  «'  the  lave)    ""^  ^ox^-. 

^  '  '  all  the  rest; 

Your  better  art  o'  hidm. 


Think,  when  your  castigated  pulse 

Gies  now  and  then  a  wallop  !     gives     strong  beat 
What  ragings  must  his  veins  convulse, 

That  still  eternal  gallop  ! 
Wi'  wind  and  tide  fair  z'  your  tail^  abaft 

Right  on  ye  scud  your  sea-way  ; 
But  in  the  teeth  o'   baith  to  sail,  both 

It  makes  an  unco  lee- way.  very  great 

See  Social  Life  and  Glee  sit  down, 

All  joyoais  and  unthinking, 
Till,  quite  transm^igrify^ d^  they're  grown"^^*''^"j°'""l 

Debauchery  and  Drinking : 
O  would  they  stay  to  calculate 

Th'  eternal  consequences  ; 
Or  your  more  dreaded  hell  to  state, 

Damnation  of  expenses  ! 


Ye  high,  exalted,  virtuous  dames, 

Tied  up  in  godly  laces, 
Before  ye  gie  poor  Frailty  names ^  miscaii  poor  rraiity 

Suppose  a  change  o'   cases  ; 
A  dear-lov'd  lad,   convenience  snug, 

A  treach'rous  inclination  ; 
But,  let  me  whisper  i'  your  hig^  ear 

Ye' re  aiblins  nac  temptation.  perhaps  no 


252  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

*  Then  gently  scan  your  brother  man, 

Still  gentler  sister  woman  ; 
Tho'  they  may  gang  a  kennin  wrang,  sUght  degree 

To  step  aside  is  human  : 
One  point  must  still  be  greatly  dark, 

The  moving  why  they  do  it  ; 
And  just  as  lamely  can  ye  mark, 

How  far  perhaps  they  rue  it. 

Who  made  the  heart,   'tis  He  alone 

Decidedly  can  \.xy  us  ;  ^ 

He  knows  each  chord,  its  various  tone, 

Each  spring,   its  various  bias  : 
Then  at  the  balance  let's  be  mute, 

We  never  can  adjust  it  ; 
What's  done  we  partly  may  compute, 

But  know  not  what's   resisted. 


[This  is  pre-emiuently  one  of  those  poems  whose  lines  become 
"moUoes  of  the  heart."  In  all  likelihood,  the  period  in  Burns'  life 
we  have  now  reached,  in  the  order  of  our  chronology,  was  the  date 
of  its  composition  :  yet  it  is  rather  remarkable  that  he  withheld  it 
from  publication  in  his  Kilmarnock  edition  of  that  year.  There  is 
a  prose  passage  inserted  in  his  Common-place  Book,  under  date 
March,  1784,  in  which  the  line  of  reflection  and  argument  is  very 
similar  to  that  in  this  poem.  The  passage  being  somewhat  lengthy, 
we  refer  t4ie  reader  to  it  in  another  portion  of  this  work.] 

("A  more  beautiful  blending  of  humor  with  the  purest  charity 
and  wisdom  is,  perhaps,  not  to  be  found  in  any  similar  composition 
in  any  language."  Such  is  the  verdict  of  P.  Hately  Waddell  on 
this  wonderful  production,  and  the  great  heart  of  the  world  answers, 
Amen  !— J.  H.) 

*  A  moderu  poetess.  Miss  Adelaide  Proctor,  has  very  elegantly  elaborated  the 
fientiment  of  these  two  verses,  and  in  all  probability  she  got  the  idea  from  Burns: 
"  Judge  not ;  the  working  of  his  brain 
And  of  his  heart  thou  canst  not  see; 
What  looks  to  thy  dim  eyes  a  stain, 

In  God's  pure  light  may  only  be 
A  scar,  brought  from  some  well-fought  field, 
Where  thou  wouldst  only  faint  and  yield." 


^T.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  253 


THE  INVENTORY ; 

IN    ANSWER    TO    A    MANDATE     BY    THE    SURVEYOR    OP 
THE    TAXES. 

(CURRIE,    1800,    COMPD.    WITH   STEWART,    180I.) 

Sir,  as  your  mandate  did  request, 

I  send  you  here  a  faithfu'   list, 

O'  gudes  an'  gcar^  an'  a'  \ny  graiik^  cash     substance 

To  which  I'm  clear  to  gi''e  my  aith.         give     oath 

Imprimis^  then,   for  carriage  cattle, 
I  hae  four  brutes  o'  gallant  mettle,  have 

As  ever  drew  before  a  pcttle.  piough-stick 

My  hand-afore' s  *  2,  guid  aiild  'has  been,'  good  old 
An'  wight  an'  wilfiC  a'  his  days  been  ;  powerful  wiiifui 
My  hand-ahin'st  a  weel gaim  fillie,  weii-going 

That  aft  has  borne  me  hame  frae  Killie^   Kiimamock 
An'  your  auld  borough  mony  a  time,  J 
In  days  when  riding  was  nae  crime. 
[But  aiice^  when  in  my  wooing  pride  once 

I,  like  a  blockhead,   boost  to  ride,  behoved 

The  wilfu'  creature  sae  I  pat  to^  pushed 

(L — d  pardon  a'  my  sins,   an'   that  too  !) 
I  play'd  my  fillie  sic  a  sJiavie^  trick 

She's  a'   bedevil'd  wi'  the  spavie.'\  spavin 

My  furr-ahin's§  a  wordy  beast,  worthy 

As  e'er  in  tug  or  tozv  was  traced.  trace  or  rope 

The  fourth's  a  Highland  Donald  hastie^  quick  tempered 
A  d — n'd  red-wild  Kilburnie  blastie  !  ||  stark-mad     imp 


♦Fore  horse  on  the  left  hand  in  the  plough, 
t  Hindmost  on  the  left  hand  in  the  plough, 
t  Ayr. 

g  Hindmost  on  the  rijiht  hand  in  the  Plough 
0  'He  had  bought  it  at  Kilbiruie  fair. 


254  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

Foreby  a  cozvt  o'  cowts  the  wal^^  coit     choice 

As  ever  ran  before  a  tail  : 

Gin  he  be  spar'd  to  be  a  beast, 

He'll  draw  me  fifteen /»/^«rtf  at  least.        pounds  sterling 

Wheel-carriages  I  lia'e  but  few, 

Three  carts,  an'  twa  are  fcckly  new  ;  nearly 

An  auld  wheelbarrow,   mair  for  token, 

Ae  leg  an'  baith  the  trams  are  broken  ;   both  handles 

I  made  a  poker  o'  the  spin'le, 

An'  my  auld  mither  brunt  the  trinHe.  bumed    wheel 

For  men,  I've  three  mischievous  boys, 
Run-deils  for  ranting  an'  for  noise ;     mad  caps     froUc 
A  gaudsman*  ane,  a  thrasher  t'  other  : 
Wee  Davock  hands  the  nowt  m /other.  ^""^^   ^^^*,"^] 

■'  fodder  5 

I  rule  them  as  I   ought,  discreetly, 

An'  aften  labor  them  completely  ; 

An'  ay  on  Sundays  duly,  nightly, 

I  on  the  "  Questions  "t  targe  them  tightly  ;    examine 

Till,  faith!  wee  Davock' sX  grown  Sd,^  gleg^    sh^) 

Tho'  scarcely  langer  than  your  leg,  taiier 

He'll  screed  you  rt/" Effectual  Calling,     '^^^^5^^^^';,°"^^} 

As  fast  as  ony  in  the  dwalling. 

I've  nane  in  female  servan'  station, 

(Iv — d  keep  me  ay  frae  a'  temptation  !)      always  from 

I  hae  nae  wife — and  that  my  bliss  is, 

An'  ye  have  laid  nae  tax  on  misses  ; 

An'  then,   if  kirk  folks  dinna  clutch   me,         do  not 

I  ken  the  deevils  darena  touch  me.  dare  not 

Wi'  weans  I'm  mair  than  weel  contented      children 

Heav'n  sent  me  ane  7nair  than  I  wanted:    one  more 

•  A  driver  of  the  plough  team  :  the  name  is  derived  from  the  practice  of  using 
a  gaud  or  goad  to  incite  the  animals,  especially  where  oxen  are  employed.^ 
J.    H. 

t  On  the  Shorter  Catechism  of  the  Westminster  Assembly  of  Divines.  Every 
decent  farmer  catechized  his  servants  on  it  each  Sabbath  evening.  "  IVhat  is 
Effectual  Calling"  is  one  of  the  questions.— J.  H. 

X  The  diminutive  termination  ock  or  oc  is  almost  peculiar  to  Ayrshire ;  thus, 
there,  a  young  girl  is  either  lassie  or  lassock,  elsewhere  in  Scotland  it  is  only 
lassie. — ^J.  H. 


JB.r.  28.]  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  255 

My  soHsz'e,  smirking,  dear  bought  Bess,*  plump 

She  stares  the  daddy  in  her  face,t 

Enough  of  ought  ye  like  but  grace  : 

But  her,  my  bonie,  sweet  wee  lady, 

I've  paid  enough  for  her  already  ; 

An^  gin  ye  tax  her  or  her  mither,  and  if 

By  the  L — d,  ye' se  get  them  «'  thegither!     you  win  > 

And  now,  remember,  Mr.   Aiken, 
Nae  kind  of  licence  out  I'm  takin : 

\Frae  this  time  forth,  I  do  declare  from 

r se  ne'er  ride  horse  nor  hiszie  mair  ;]  iwiu     hussy 

Thro'  dirt  and  dub  for  life  I'll  paidle^  wade 
Ere  I  sae  dear  pay  for  a  saddle. 

My  travel  a',  on  foot  I'll  shank  it^  foot  it 

I've  sturdy  bearers^  Gude  be  thankit !  legs 
[The  kirk  and  you  may  tak'  you  that, 

It  puts  but  little  in  your  pat ;  %  pot 
Sae  dinna  put  me  in  your  beuk           do  not     tax-book 

Nor  for  my  ten  white  shillings  leuk.'\  look 

This  list,  wi'  my  ain  hand  I  wrote  it. 
The  day  and  date  as  under  noted  ; 
Then  know  all  ye  whom  it  concerns, 
Siibscripsi  huic^  ROBERT  BuRNS. 

MOSSGIE)!,,  February  22,   1786. 

[In  May,  1785,  with  a  view  to  liquidate  ten  millions  of  unfunded 
debt,  Mr.  Pitt  made  a '  large  addition  to  the  number  of  taxed 
articles,  and  amongst  these  were  female-servants.  It  became  the 
duty  of  Mr.  Aiken,  as  tax-surveyor  for  the  district,  to  serve  the 
usual  notice  on  Burns,  who,  on  receipt  of  it,  made  his  return  iu 
the  verses  which  form  our  text.  Several  passages,  here  marked 
with  brackets,  were  omitted  by  Currie ;  these  are  supplied  from 
Stewart.] 

*The  poet's  child,  then  an  inmate  of  Mossgiel,  and  about  fifteen  months  old. 

See  note,  pape  6g.— J.  H. 
t  Resembles  her  father  in  every  feature  ;  is  the  very  image  of  her  father.— J.  H- 
tThe   Church  and  you  (as  tax-gatherer)  may  both  take  this  threat  (or  vow)  to 

yourselves;  it  promises  to  put  but  little  iu  either  of  your  pots.— J.  II. 


256  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  [17S6 

(Mr.  Aiken  was  one  of  the  earliest  to  recognize  Burns'  genius, 
and  to  lead  others  to  recognize  it,  even  before  the  publication  of 
the  Kilmarnock  edition.      See  note  to  "Vision,"  p.  243.— J.  H.) 


TO  JOHN  KENNEDY,  DUMFRIES  HOUSE. 

(Cunningham's  Ed.,  1834.) 

Now,   Kennedy,  if  foot  or  horse 

E'er  bring  you  in  by  Mauchlin  l:orse^     market-cross 

(Ivord,  man,  there's  lasses  there  wad  force    would 

A  hermit's  fancy  ; 
An'  down  the  gate  in  faith  they're  worse,      -way 

An'  mair  unchancy.')  mofedan-| 

■^    '   gerous       / 

But  as  I'm  sayin,  please  step  to  Dow's, 

An'  taste  sic  gear  as  Johnie  brews,  such  stufif 

Till  some  bit  callan  bring  me  news        boy  or  other 

That  ye  are  there ; 
An'   if  we  dinna  hae  a  bouze^    •  do  not  have  a  carousal 

Pse  ne'er  drink  mair.  I'^i") 

more/ 

It's  no  I  like  to  sit  an'  swallow. 
Then  like  a  swine  to  puke  an'  wallow  ; 

But  gie  me  just  a  true  good  fallow,  give 

Wi'  right  ingine,,  genius  ^ 

J  1  f,  ^Latimngentum] 

And  spunkie  ance  to  make  us  mellow       game  for  once 
An'  then  we'll  shine. 

Now  if  ye're  ane  <?'   warVs  folk  of  theworid-a 

Wha  rate  the  wearer  by  the  cloak,  who 

An'  sklent  on  poverty  their  joke,  squint 

Wi'   bitter  sneer, 
Wi'  you  nae  friendship  I  will  troke^  no    trade 

Nor  cheap  nor  dear, 


P 


^t.  28.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  257 

But  if,  as  I'm  informed  weel, 
Ye  hate  as  ill's  the  vera  deil 
The  flinty  heart  that  canna  feel —  cannot 

Come,  sir,  here's  to  you  ! 
Hae,  there's  my  haun^  I  wiss  you  weel,   hand     wish 

An'  glide  be  wV  you.     po<ibe| 

RORT.    BURNESS. 
MossGiEi,,  3rd  March,  ij86. 

[The  above  lines,  collated  with  the  original  MS.,  obligingly- 
communicated  by  its  present  possessor,  John  Adam,  Esq.,  Greenock, 
form  the  concluding  portion  of  a  letter  addressed  to  Kennedy,  ia 
reply  to  a  request  from  him  to  be  favored  with  a  perusal  of  the 
"Cotter's  Saturday  Night."  The  poet  immediately  complied  by 
sending  his  only  copy  of  that  poem  ;  merely  requesting  his  cor- 
respondent to  make  a  copy,  and  return  either  the  original  or  the 
transcript.  It  appears  now  to  be  certain  that  Kennedy  adopted 
the  latter  course,  and  retained  the  holograph,  which,  along  with 
several  letters  addressed  by  Burns  to  Kennedy,  was  purchased, 
about  forty  years  ago,  by  Mr.  Cochrane,  the  London  publisher, 
and  by  him  presented  to  Allan  Cunningham. 

Kennedy,  in  1786,  was  factor  to  Patrick,  the  last  Earl  of  Dum- 
fries, resident  at  Dumfries  House,  about  half-way  between  Ochiltree 
and  Auchinleck,  now  the  property  of  the  Earl  of  Bute.  In  the 
old  Calton  burial-ground  at  Edinburgh,  is  yet  to  be  seen  the 
grave-stone  of  Burns'  early  friend,  bearing  the  following  inscrip- 
tion : — "In  memory  of  John  Kennedy,  who  died  at  PMinburgh 
19th  June,  1812,  aged  55.  He  was  13  years  Factor  to  the  Earl 
of  Dumfries,  and  18  to  the  Earl  of  Breadalbiue."  He  would  thus 
be  bom  about  two  years  before  our  bard.] 


TO  Mr.  M'ADAM,  OF  CRAIGEN-GILLAN, 

IN  ANSWER    TO  AN  OBLIGING  LETTER    HE  SENT  IN    THB 
COMMENCEMENT    OF  MY  POETIC   CAREER. 

(Cromek,  1808.) 

Sir,  o'er  a  gill  I  gat  your  card,        of  whisky     got 
I  trow  it  made  me  proud  ;  *  assure  you 

•Bums'  frequent  affectation  of  dissipation  might  lead  to  the  supposition  th»t 
be  was  already  a  victim  to  the  vice.    That  this  was  not  the  case  we  have  abun- 

I.  Q 


258  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786, 

*  See  wha  taks  notice  o'   the  bard!' 
I  lap  and  cry'd  fu'   loud.  leapt 

Now  deil-7na-care  about  their yVzw,  coarse  taiki 

The  senseless,  gawky  million  ;  siiiy 

I'll  cock  my  nose  aboon  them  a',  above 

I'm  roos'd  by  Craigen-Gillan  !  *  praised 

'Twas  noble,  sir  ;   'twas  like  yoursel, 

To  grant  your  high  protection  : 
A  great  man's  smile  }'e  ken  fu^  well,  know 

Is  ay  a  blest  infection.  ^ 

Tho',  by  hist  bancs  wlia  in  a  tub  bones 

Match' d   Alacedonian    Sandy  I         Alexander  the  great 

On  my  ain  legs  thro'  dirt  and  dub,  own 

I  independent  stand  ay, — 

And  when  those  legs  to  gude,  warm  kail  bariey-broth 

Wi'  welcome  canna  bear  me, 
A  lee  dyke-side,  I  a  sybozv-tai!^  leek 

An'  barley-scone  §  shall  cheer  me. 

Heaven  spare  you  lang  to  kiss  the  breath 

O'  mony  flow'ry  simmers  ! 
An'  bless  your  bonie  lasses  baith^  both 

I'm  tauld  iliQ.y'' iQ.  loosome  kimmers  f  loveabie  giris 

An'  God  bless  young  Dunaskin's  laird, 

The  blossom  of  our  gentry  ! 
An'  may  he  wear  an  auld  man's  beard, 

A  credit  to  his  country. 

dant  evidence,  in  addition  to  his  brother's  direct  testimony.  For  one  ihing,  he 
had  at  this  time  no  money  to  spend  on  drink. — J.  H. 

*It  is  the  custom  in  Scotland  to  name  "lairds"  after  their  estates  and  farmeifl 
after  their  farms. — J.  H. 

t  Diogenes. 

J  The  lee  side  of  a  dyke.    A  dyke  is  a  wall  of  sods  or  dry  stones. 

J  A  soft  cake  of  barley-meal. 


—aauoj  A  OT 

"  lax/  D92  sioilii  ca  abaiLfu  30<d  oT 


o    ilie  bard  I ' 


'  T^'',t*r;^  V' 


On  my  am 

I  iudependent  sta; 

And  when  tl 
Wi'  welcc 


abo 
prai: 


-iso  the  breath 


-oveable  gi' 


"Kie  no  r 


TO='-A  LOUSE— 

.irrns. — J 


"  O  wad  some  Power  the  giftie  gie  us 
To  see  oursels  as  ithers  see  us!  " 


^    28.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  259 

[About  March,  1786,  we  suppose  to  have  been  the  date  of  the 
above  verses.  The  poet  thought  so  well  of  this  little  production 
that  he  included  it  in  the  Glenriddell  collection  of  his  early 
poems,  where  he  states  that  it  was  an  extempore  composition, 
"wrote  in  Nanse  Tinnock's,  Mauchline."  Craigengillan  is  a  con- 
siderable estate  in  Carrick.  Mr.  David  Woodburn,  factor  for  its 
owner,  was  on  such  friendly  terms  with  Burns,  that  he  received 
from  him  a  copy  of  the  celebrated  cantata,  "The  Jolly  Beggars" — 
the  same  which  afterwards  passed  into  the  hands  of  Thomas 
Stewart,  the  publisher.  (An  additional  portion  was  given  to  Stewart 
by  his  uncle,  Mr.  John  Richmond,  of  Mauchline.  See  note  to 
"Jolly  Beggars."— J.  H.] 


TO  A  I.OUSE. 

ON    SEEING    ONE    ON    A    LADY'S    BONNET   AT    CHURCH. 

(KlI,MARNOCK  Ed.,    17S6.) 

where  are  ye  going  \ 

Ha  !  whaur  ye gaim^  ye  crawliny^r/z'^  .^  wonder/ 

Your  impudence  protects  you  sairlie ;  wonderfully 
I  canna  say  but  ye  striuit  rarely,  cannot     stmt 

Oivre  f^auze  and  lace  ;  over 

Tho'  faith  !  I  fear,  ye  dine  but  sparely 

Ou  sic  a  place.  such 

Ye  ugly,  creepin,  blastet  wonner^  blasted  imp 

Detested,  shunn'd  by  saunt  an'  sinner,  saint 

How  daur  ye  set  your  fit  upon  lier —        dare     foot 

Sue  fine  a  lady  ?  so 

Gae  somewhere  else,  and  seek  your  dinner  ga 

On  some  poor  bodyo 

Swith  !  in  some  beggar's  liauITct  squattle,* 

WV  ither  kindred,  jumping  cattle  ;  with  other 

•  off  with  you  !  and  nestle  in  some  beggar's  side-locks. 


260  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [1786 

There  ye  may  creep,  an  sprawl,  and  spy  at  tie  scramble 

In  shoals  and  nations  ; 
Whaur  horn  nor  bane*  ne'er  daur  unsettle  ^^ere^ 

.  dare  j 

Your  thick  plantations,     colonies 


Now  hand  you  there^  ye' re  out  o'  sight,  ^^^^  ^^^""^  y°"  | 
Below  iho:  fatfrels  snug  an  tight;  puckers 

Na^  faith  ye  yet  /  ye'll  no  be  right,  no,  hang  you  1 

Till  ye've  got  on  it — 
The  vera  tapmost,  tow'rin  height 

O'  Miss's  bonftet 


My  sooth  !  right  bauld  ye  set  your  nose  out,     bold 
As  plump  an'  grey  as  ony  groset :  gooseberry 

0  for  some  rank,  mercurial  rozet^  ointment 

Or  fell^  red  smeddum^      "^^adiy  . 

I'd  gie  you  sic  a  hearty  dose  o't,  give     such 

Wad  dress  your  droddum!    breech 

1  wad  nae  been  surpris'd  to  spy 

You  on  an  auld  wife's  fianne^i  toy ;  flannel  cap 

Or  aiblins  some  bit  duddie  boy,  perhaps      ragged 

On's    WylieCOat ;  under-jacket 

But  Miss's  fine  Lunar di !  ^  fye  !      baiioon-shaped bonnet 
How  daur  ye  do't?  dare 

O  Jeany,  dinna  toss  your  head,  do  not 

An'  set  your  beauties  a'  abreid!  abroad 

Ye  little  ken  what  cursed  speed  know 

The  blastie^s  makin  :  little  imp 

Thae  winks  an'  finger-ends,   I  dread,  these 

Are  notice  takin 


*  Small-toothed  comb  of  bone  or  horn. 

t  Vincent  Lunardi,  on  September  15,  1784,  ascended  from  London  in  an  air-bal- 
loon—the earliest  attempt  in  Britain ;  and  on  5th  October,  1785,  he  performed 
a  like  feat  from  Heriot's  Green,  at  Edinburgh.  Being  a  novelty  and,  therefore, 
in  the  fashion,  a  particular  kind  of  lady's  hat  was  named  after  him. — ^J.  H. 


^T.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  2G1 

O  wad  some  Power  the  giftie  gie  us,  would     gifi  give 
To  see  oursels  as  ithers  see  us  !  ourselves     others 

It  wad  frae  mony  a  blunder  free  us,  would  from 

An'  foolish  notion : 
What  airs  in  dress  an'  gait  wad  led' e  us,  leave 

An'  ev'n  devotion  ! 

[The  author  was  fond  of  selecting  the  lower  animals  as  subjects 
for  his  muse.  We  have  already  seen  how  much  he  made  of  the 
pet-ewe,  the  disabled  mare,  the  two  dogs,  the  field-mouse ;  and 
now  he  extracts  a  moral  that  can  never  die  from  the  most  con- 
temptible little  animal  in  nature.  Some  even  of  the  admirers 
of  Burns  have  expressed  a  wish  that  this  poem  had  never  been 
written  ;  but  the  last  stanza  soon  became  a  world-wide  proverbial 
quotation ;  and  if  poetical  merit  is  to  be  estimated  by  such 
instant  and  universal  recognition,  this  piece  ranks  high  among 
his  happiest  productions. — J.  H.] 


INSCRIBED    ON    A    WORK    OF    HANNAH 
MORE'S, 

PRESENTED  TO  THE  AUTHOR  BY  A  LADY. 
(Cunningham's  Ed.,  1834.) 

Thou  flatt'ring  mark  of  friendship  kind, 
Still  may  thy  pages  call  to  mind 
The  dear,  the  beauteous,  donor  ; 
Tho'  sweetly  female  ev'ry  part, 
Yet  such  a  head,  and  more — the  heart 

Does  both  the  sexes  honor  : 
She  show'd  her  taste  refin'd  and  just, 

When  she  selected  thee  ; 
Yet  deviating,  own  I  must, 
For  sae  approving  me  : 

But  kind  still  I'll  mind  still 

The  giver  in  the  gift ; 
I'll  bless  her,  an'  wiss  her 

A  Friend  aboon  the  lift.  above     sky 


262  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

[The  poet  enclosed  a  copy  of  this  inscription  in  a  letter  to 
Mr.  Robert  Aiken,  dated  3d  April,  1786.  His  plan  of  publishing 
a  volume  of  his  poems  at  Kilmarnock  was  then  completed,  for 
he  says  to  his  friend  and  patron, — "My  proposals  for  publishing 
I  am  just  going  to  send  to  the  press."  It  is  very  remarkable 
that  no  biographer  or  editor  of  Burns  has  ever  stated  or  suggested 
the  name  of  the  lady,  "  Mrs.  C,"  who  showed  that  mark  of  early 
attention  to  Burns,  although  he  refers  to  it  as  "the  second  flat- 
tering instance  of  Mrs.  C.'s   notice  and  approbation." 

Upon  no  authority  beyond  reasonable  surmise,  we  venture  to  say 
that  the  lady  was  Mrs.  Cunninghame,  of  Enterkin,  a  daughter 
of  Mrs.  Stewart,  of  Stair,  and  a  distant  relative  of  Mr.  Aiken. 

On  2oth  March,  the  poet  had  written  to  Robert  Muir,  of  Kil- 
marnock, hoping  to  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  him  there,  "before 
we  hear  the  gowk" — /.  e.,  before  the  cuckoo  (the  "harbinger  of 
spring")  is  heard.  That  was,  of  course,  to  arrange  about  the 
printing  of  his  poems  ;  and  it  is  very  likely  that  when  he  went 
to  Kilmarnock  he  had  his  poem  of  the  "Ordination,"  and  per- 
haps a  sketch  of  the  "Holy  Fair"  also,  in  his  pocket,  both  of 
those  pieces  being  closely  associated  with  the  clerical  history  of 
that  town.] 


THE  HOLY  FAIR.* 

(Kii,MARNOCK   Ed.,    1786.) 

A  robe  of  seeming  truth  and  trust 

Hid  crafty  observation  ; 
And  secret  hung,  with  poison'd  crust. 

The  dirk  of  defamation  : 
A  mask  that  like  the  gorget  show'd, 

Dye-varjdng  on  the  pigeon  ; 
And  for  a  mantle  large  and  broad, 

He  wrapt  him  in  Religion. 

Hypocrisy  a-la-modb. 

Upon  a  simmer  Sunday  mom, 

When  Nature's  face  is  fair, 
I  walked  forth  to  view  the  com, 

An'  snufF  the  caller  air.  fresh  cooi 


•"Holy  Fair"  is  a  common  phrase  in  the  west  of  Scotland  for  a  sacramental 
occasion. — R.  B.  In  Scotland  the  word  "sacrament"  is  popularly  limited  to  the 
communion  or  eucharist. — J.  H. 


.aer.  28.] 


POEMS  AND   SONGS. 


263 


The  rising  sun  owre  Galston  *  muirs 

Wi'  glorious  light  was  glintiii ;  glancing 

The  hares  were  hirplin  down  the >rrj,"^^P^''^"^J';;;^^;} 

The  laverocks  they  were  chantin 
Fic'  sweet  that  day. 


furrows  J 
larks 


fuil 
stared 

wenches 

walking  rapidly 

mantles  of 

one  with  gray 

walked  a  little 


As  lightsomely  I  glowr'd  abroad 

To  see  a  scene  sae  gay, 
Three  hiszies^  early  at  the  road, 

Cam  skelpin  up  the  way. 
Twa  had  manteelcs  o'  dolefu'  black, 

But  ane  wi'  lyart  lining  ; 
The  third,  that  gaed  a  wee  a-back, 

Was  in  the  fashion   shining, 

Fu'  gay  that  day. 


The  twa  appear' d  like  sisters  twin, 

In  feature,  form,  an'  claes ;  clothes 

Their  visage  wither' d,  lang  an'  thin, 

An'  sour  as  ony  slaes  :  sioes 

The  third  cam  up,   /iap-sfap-aii^'lowp^ho^-s\cx>a.nAiumr> 

As    light   as    07iy    Iambic^  anylambkin 

An'  wi'  a  curchie  low  did  stoop,  curtsey 

As  soon  as  e'er  she  saw  me, 

Fu'  kind  that  day. 

Wi^  bon7iet  aff^  quoth  I,  *'  Sweet  lass,  with  head  uucovcred 

I  think  ye  seem  to  ken  me,  know 

I'm  sure  I've  seen  that  bonie  face, 

But  yet  I  canna  name  ye."  cannot 

Quo'  she,  an'  laughin  as  she  spak, 

An'  taks  me  by  the  hands, 
*'Ye,  for  my  sake,  hae  gieit  ^^  feck 

Of  a'  the  ten  commands 

A  screed  some  day." 


given       mos^ 

commandments 

rent 


*  An  upland  parish  to  the  east  of  Kilmarnock.— J.  H. 


264  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1786. 

*'My  name  is  Fun — your   cronie  dear,  comrade 

The  nearest  friend  ye  hae  ; 
An'  this  is  Superstition  here, 

An'  that's  Hypocrisy. 
Vvci.  gaiin  to  Mauchline  'holy  fair,*  going 

To  spend  an  hour  in  daffiti:  frolicking 

Gin  ye' 11  go  there,  yon  runkP  d  pair,       if    wnnkied 
We  will  get  famous  laughin 

At  them  this  day.'* 

Quoth  I,   "Wi'  a'  my  heart,  I'll  d(J»t; 

I'll  get  my  Sunday's  sark  on,  shirt 

An'  meet  you  on  the  holy  spot  ; 

Faith,  we'se  hae  fine  remarkin  !  " 
Then  I  gaed  hame  at  crowdie-\\me.^'^  went     breakfast 

An'  soon  I  made  me  ready  ; 
For  roads  were  clad,  frae  side  to  side, 

Wi'  mony  a  wearie  body,  toiUng 

In  droves  that  day. 

Here  farmers  gash,  in  ridin  graith,     wise  and  solemn  | 
Gaed  hoddin  by  their  cotters  ;  went  jogging  past    cottagers 

There  swankies  young,  in  braw  braid-claith,  f 
Are  springing  owre  the  gutters.  over 

The  lasses,  skelpin  barefit,  thrang,  % 
In  silks  an'  scarlets  glitter  ; 

Wi'  sweet-milk  cheese,  in  fno7iy  a  whang        many^ 

,  '  -^  "^     great  slice/ 

An'  farlSy  bak'd  wi'  butter,  oatmeai  cakes 

Fu'  crump  that  day.  crisp 

When  by  the  'plate'  we  set  our  nose, 
Weel  heaped  up  wi'  ha'pence. 


•  The  regular  Scotch  breakfast  of  the  working  classes  was  oat-meal  porridge 
■nd  inilk.    Crowdie  means  any  food  of  the  porridge  kind. — ^J.  H. 
fThere  young  strapping  fellows  in  fine  broadcloth. — J.  H. 
XThe  girls  hurrying  along  barefooted  in  throngs. — j.  H. 


«T.   28.] 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


265 


A  greedy  glowr  '  black-bonnet '  *  throws, 
An'  we  maun  draw  our  tippence. 

Then  in  we  go  to  see  the  show  : 
On  ev'ry  side  they're  gath'rin  ; 

Some  carryin  dails^  some  chairs  an'  stools, 
An'  some  are  busy  bleth)rin 

Right  loud  that  day. 


stare 

must) 


twopence 


planks 
talking  loosely 


Here  stands  a  shed  io  fend  the  show'rs,         wardos 

An'  screen  our  countra  gentry  ;  f 
There  '  Racer  Jess, '  %  an'  twa- three  wh-res, 

Are  blinkin  at  the  entry. 
Here  sits  a  raw  o'   tittlin  jads^  tittenngjades 

Wi'  heavin  breasts  an'  bare  neck  ; 
An'  there  a  batch  o'   wabster  lads,  group     weaver 

Blackguardin  frae  Kilmarnock, 

For  fun  this  day.  § 

Here  some  are  thinkin  on  their  sins, 

An'  some  upo'   their  claes ;  clothes 

Ane  curses  feet  that  fyVd  his  shins ^    bedaubed    ankles 

Anither  sighs  an'  prays  : 
On  this  hand  sits  a  chosen  szuatch^  sample 

Wi'  screw' d-up,  grace-proud  faces  ; 
On  that  a  set  o'   chaps^  at  watch,  young  feiiow» 

Thrang  winkin  on  the  lasses  busy 

To  chairs  that  day. 


*  A  cant  name  for  the  elder  who  stood  at  "the  plate"  on  which  the  offerings 
were  deposited  at  the  entrance  to  the  place  of  meeting.— J.  H. 

t  The  communion  used  to  be  celebrated  out  of  doors  in  the  church-yard  or  a 
field  near  the  church,  and  a  temporary-  shed  was  put  up  to  give  shelter  from 
the  weather  to  the  aristocracy  who  attended.  The  whole  thing  was  not  unlike 
an  American  camp-meeting,  excepting  that  in  Scotland  the  communion  was  cele- 
brated, and  the  out-of-doors  services  lasted  only  one  day. — J.  H. 

t  Februar\',  1813,  died  at  Mauchline,  Janet  Gib.son— the  "  Racer  Jess  "  of  Burns' 
'  Holy  Fair,"  remarkable  for  her  pedestrian  feats.  She  was  a  daughter  of 
"Poosie  Nansie"  who  figures  in  "The  Jolly  Beggars." — Newspaper  Obituary. 

2  Kilmarnock  "wabsters,"  like  their  brethren  of  the  loom  elsewhere,  had  a 
peculiar  taste  for  theological  polemics.  Political  polemics  was  then  denied  them, 
so  they  gave  themselves  vent  on  religion.  Sec  opening  of  "  Ordination."  Kit 
marnock  people  always  disliked  this  allusion.— J.  H. 


266 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


[1786. 


O  happy  is  that  man,  an'  blest ! 

Nae  wonder  that  it  pride  him  ! 
Whase  ain  dear  lass,  that  he  likes  best,     whose  own 

Comes  clinkhi  down  beside  him  !  daps  herself 

Wi'  arm  repos'd  on  the  chair  back, 

He  sweetly  does  compose  him  ; 
Which,  by  degrees,  slips  round  her  neck, 

All's   looy  UlpOn   her   bosom,  andhispalm 

Unke7id  that  day.*      as  if  unconscious 


Now  a'  the  congregation  o'er  ^ 

Is  silent  expectation  ; 
For  Moodie  spccls  the  holy  door,t 

Wi'  tidings  o'  damnation  :  % 
Should  Honiic^  as  in  ancient  days, 

''Afang  sons  o'  God  present  him, 
The  vera  sight  o'  IMoodie's  face. 

To  's  am  het  hame  had  sent  him 
WV  fright  that  day. 


climbs 


Satan 


among 


own  hot  home 
with 


Hear  how  he  clears  the  points  o'  Faith 

Wi'  rattlin  and  thumpin  ! 
Now  meekly  calm,  now  wild  in  wrath. 

He's  stampin,   an'  he's  jumpin  ! 
His  lengthen' d  chin,  his  tumed-up  snout, 

His  eldritch  squeel  an'  gestures, 
O  how  they  fire  the  heart  devout, 

Like  cantharidian  plaisters 

On  sic  a  day  ! 

But  hark  !  the  tent  has  chang'd  its  voice  ; 
There's  peace  an'  rest  tiae  langer  ; 


unearthly 


*  "  This  verse  sets  boldly  out  with  a  line  of  a  psalm.  It  is  the  best  description 
erer  was  drawn.     '  Unkend  that  day'  surpasses  aW."— James  Hogg. 

tRev.  Alexander  Moodie  of  Riccarton,  one  of  the  heroes  of  the  "Twa  Herds." 
His  personal  appearance  and  style  of  oratory  are  not  here  caricatured  by  the 
poet.  Trans,  from  Culross,  1762.  Died  February  15,  1799.  The  "holy  door"  ia 
the  door  giving  entrance  to  the  tent  whence  the  ministers  preached-^J.  H. 

{Altered  from  '  salvation,"  by  suggestion  of  Dr.  Hugh  Blair. 


^T.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  267 

For  a'   the  real  judges  rise, 

They  canna  sit  for  anger,  catmot 

Smith  *  opens  out  his  cauld  harangues, 

On  practice  and  on  morals  ; 
An^  aff  the  godly  pour  in  thrangs^      and  oflf     throngs 

To  gie  the  jars  an'  barrels  giw 

A  lift  that  day. 


What  signifies  his  barren  shine, 

Of  moral  pow'rs  an'  reason? 
His  English  style,  an'  gesture  fine 

Are  a^  clean  out  d'  season.  an     of 

lyike  Socrates  or  Antonine, 

Or  some  auld  pagan  heathen. 
The  moral  man  he  does  define, 

But  ne'er  a  word  o'  faith  in 

That's  right  that  day. 


In  giiid  time,  comes  an  antidote  good 

Against  sic  poison' d  nostrum  j  such 

For  Peebles,  t  frae  the  water-fit, 
Ascends  the  holy  rostrum  : 

See,  up  he's  got  the  word  o'  God, 

An'    meek    an'    77lWl    has  view' d    it,  affectedly  demure 


♦Rev.  George  (subsequently  Dr.)  Smith  of  Galston,  referred  to  in  the  "  Twa 
Herds"  and  also  in  a  different  feeling,  under  the  appellation  of  "Irvine  Side" 
in  the  "Kirk's  Alarm."  Ord.  1778.  Died  1823.  Burns  here  meant  to  compliment 
him  on  his  rational  mode  of  preaching  and  refined  style,  but  his  friends  regarded 
the  stanzas  as  calculated  to  injure  him.  His  son,  also  Rev.  Dr.  George  Smith, 
succeeded  Dr.  Guthrie  in  1843  in  the  Old  Greyfriars  Church,  Edinburgh,  ile  mar- 
ried a  daughter  of  George  Hogarth,  the  musical  composerxand  art-critic,  and 
grand-daughter  of  George  Thomson,  Burns'  correspondent,  and  publisher  of  so 
many  of  his  finest  songs.  Mrs.  Dickens  was  another  grand-daughter  of  Thomson, 
and  sister  to  Mrs.  Smith.— J.  H. 

tRev.  Wm.  Peebles  of  "The  Water-Fit,"  or  Newton-upon-Ayr  (where  the  river 
Ayr  flows  into  the  sea).  _  Ord.  1778,  made  a  D.D.  iu  1795,  and  died  in  1825, 
aged  74. 


268  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1786. 

While  'Common-sense'*  has  tae^i  the  road,     tak«i 
An'  aflf,  an'  up  the  Cowgate  f 

Fast,  fast  that  day. 

Wee  Miller  %  nicst,  the  Guard  relieves,  next 

An'  Orthodoxy  raibles^  pours  out  confusedly 

Tho'  in  his  heart  he  weel  believes,  weu 

An'   thinks  it  auld  wives'   fables  : 
But  faith  !  the  birkic  wants  a  manse,  smart  feuow 

So,  cannilie  he  hums  them  ;        knowingly     humbugs 
Altho'  his  carnal  wit  an'  sense 

Like  hafflins-wisc  o'ercomes  him  half 

At  times  that  day. 

Now  butt  an'  bc7i%  the  change-house  fills, 

Wi'  yill-caup  commentators  ;  aie-mug 

Here's  cry  in  out  for  bakes  an'  gills^    biscuits     whisky 

An'  there  the  pint-stoivp  clatters  ;  pint-measure 

While  thick  an'   tJirang^  an'  loud  an'  lang,     busily 

Wi'  logic  an'  wi'  scripture, 
They  raise  a  din^  that  in  the  end  notoe 

Is  like  to  breed  a  rupture 

O'  wrath  that  day. 

Leese  mc  on  drink  !  it  gies  us  mair     commend  me  to) 

^  gives       niore^ 

1  han  either  school  or  college  ; 

It    kcn^  leS   wit,   \\.WaMkenS    /<?«r,  kindles      awakens  learning 

It  pangs  us  foil  o'   knowledge  :  crams     fuu 


*We  learn  from  Chambers,  who  states  it  on  local  authority,  that  Mr.  Macken- 
zie, surgeon  of  Mauchline,  and  friend  of  Burns,  had  recently  written  on  some 
topic  under  the  pseudonym  of  Common-sense.  He  was  engaged  this  day  to  dine 
at  Dumfries  House  with  the  Earl  of  Dumfries,  so,  after  listening  to  some  of  the 
harangues,  he  left  the  meeting  and  set  off  along  the  Cowgate  to  keep  his  appoint- 
ment.—J.  H. 

fA  street  so  called  which  faces  the  tent  in  Mauchline. — R.  B. 

1  Rev.  Alex.  Miller,  afterwards  of  Kilmaurs,  a  short,  paunchy  man,  supposed 
to  be  at  heart  a  "  moderate."  "  This  stanza,"  says  Chambers,  "  virtually  the  most 
depreciatory  in  the  poem,  is  said  to  have  retarded  Mi'.ler's  advancement."  Ord. 
in  Kilmaurs,  1788.     Died  in  1804. 

2  Kitchen  and  spence.    See  note  to  "The  Vision,"  p.  234. 


^T. 


.] 


POEMS   AND   SONGS. 


269 


Be't  whisky-gill  or  penny- wheep,  * 

Or  ony  stronger  potion, 
It  never  fails,   on  drinkin  deep, 

To  kittle  up  our  notion. 

By  night  or  day. 


any 


tickle 


stir 


The  lads  an'  lasses,   hlythely  bent 

To  mind  baith  said  an'  body, 
Sit  round  the  table,  weel  content, 

An'   steer  about  the  toddy : 
On  this  ane''  s  dress,  an'   that  ane's  leuk^  one's 

They're  makin  observations  ; 
While  some  are  cozie  i'  the  Jieuk^ 

An'  forming  assignations 

To  meet  some  day. 


cheerily 
both  soul 

hot  Scotch 
look 


snug       corner 


But  now  the  L — 's  ain  trumpet  touts^     own     sounds 

Till  a'  the  hills  are  rairin^  roaring  with  echoes 

And  echoes  back-return  the  shouts  ; 

Black  Russell  is  na  spairin  :  f 
His  piercin  words,   like  highlan'  swords, 

Divide  the  joints  an'  marrow  ; 
His  talk  o'   Hell,  whare  devils  dwell, 

Our  vera  ^''sauls  does  harrow  "J 

Wi'  fright  that  day  I 


not 


aoule 


A  vast,  unbottom'd,  boundless  pit, 
Fill'd  fo7i  o'   lowin  brunstane, 

Whase  ragin  flame,  an'  scorchin  heat, 
Wad  melt  the  hardest  wJmn-stane  I 

The  half-asleep  start  up  wi'  fear. 
An'  think  they  hear  it  roarin  ; 


full        blazing 


whinstone 


♦Very  small  ale  (sometimes  made  from  molasses)  that  costs  two  cents,  or  a 
penny  a  quart  bottle.— J.  H. 

fRev.  John  Russell,  one  of  the  "Twa  Herds,"  and  "Rumble  John"  of  the 
Kirk's  Alarm.     Ordained  in  Kilmarnock  1774.     Called  to  Stirling  1800. 

t Shakespeare's  "Hamlet."—/?.  B. 


270  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1786. 

When  presently  it  does  appear, 
'Twas  but  some  neibor  snorin 
Asleep  that  day. 

*Twad  be  owre  lang  a  tale  to  tell,  too 

How  mony  stories  past  ; 
An'  how  they  crouded  to  the  yill^  aie 

When  they  were  a'  dismist  ; 
How  drink  gaed  round,  in   cogs  aji'  caups^*     went 

Amang  the  furms  an'  benches  ;  forms 

An'  cheese  an'  bread,   frae  women's  laps, 

Was  dealt  about  in  lunches^  ^  uberai  pieces 

An'  dawds  that  day.  large  sikes 

In  comes  a  gawsie^  gash  guidwife^    portly,  sagacious  matron 

An'  sits  down  by  the  fire. 
Syne  draws  her  kebbuck  an'  her  knife  ;  then     cheese 

The  lasses  they  are  shyer  : 

The  auld  guidmen^  about  the  grace,  heads  of  families 

Frae  side  to  side  they  bother  ;  f  from 

Till  some  ane  by  his  bonnet  lays,  aside    scotch  cap 

An'  gies  them't,  like  a  tether^  gives     haiter 

Fit'  lang  that  day.  fuuiong 

Waesucks  !  for  him  that  gets  nae  lass,  Aias 

Or  lasses  that  hae  naething  ! 
Sma'  need  has  he  to  say  a  grace, 

Or  melvie  his  braw  clai thing  !  soil  with  crumbs 

O  wives,    be  mindfu'  ance  yoursel 

How  bonie  lads  ye  wanted  ;       ■* 
An'  dinna  for  a  kebbuck-heel  end  of  a  cheese 

Let  lasses  be  affronted 

On  sic  a  day  !  such 

*  Vessels,  generally  of  wood,  from,  which  ale  was  drunk.  They  were  very  much, 
like  the  small  wooden  toy  pails  for  children  of  the  present  day. — J.  H. 

+  It  is  the  custom  in  Scotland  to  ask  a  blessing  before  eating  in  any  way,  and 
to  return  thanks  after.  It  is  a  mark  of  respect  to  ask  a  person  to  say  grace ; 
generally,  he  modestly  declines  and  suggests  another,  who  in  turn  names  a  third 
and  so  on.  Thus  they  "bother  about  frae  side  to  side,"  till  one  gives  them  it, 
in  length  "like  a  tether." — ^J.  H. 


iET.  28.]  POEMvS   AND   SONGS.  271 

Now    '  Clinkumbcll^''    wi'    rattliu    tOW^     bell-ringer        rope 

Begins  to  joia  an'  croon ;  ton     sound 

Some  swagger  hame  the  best  they  doWy  are  able 

Some  wait  the  afternoon. 
At  slaps  the  billies  halt  a  blink,* 

Till  lasses  strip  their  shoon  :  shoes 

Wi'  faith  an'  hope,  an'  love  an'  drink, 

They're  a'  in  famous  tune 

For  crack  that  day.  talk 

How  mony  hearts  this  day  converts 

O'  sinners  and  o'  lasses ! 
Their  hearts  o'  stane,  p^in  mg-ht,  are  s^ane  ^>'  ^''^  ^'"*^  I 

n     \      •  night  comes/ 

As  salt  as  ony  nesh  is  : 
There's  some  are  foil  o'  love  divine  ;  fuii 

There's  some  are  fou  o'  brandy  ; 
An'  mony  jobs  that  day  begin, 

May  end  in  '  houghmagandie'  ^''-eakjng  the  seventh  com-, 

•'  e>  &  niandment  J 

Some  ither  day.  other 

[Mr.  Lockliart,  after  commending  the  "Cottar's  Saturday  Night," 
in  eloquent  terms,  rnakes  this  observation, — "That  the  same  man 
should  have  produced  that  poem  and  the  '  Holy  Fair '  about  the 
same  time,  will  ever  continue  to  move  wonder  and  regret."  But 
the  world's  "regret"  in  this  matter  has  been  very  evanescent; 
for,  although  the  abuses  and  absurdities  here  censured,  in  con- 
nection with  rural  celebrations  of  the  communion,  have  happily 
disappeared,  it  cannot  be  said  that  the  lessons  conveyed  in  the 
satire  are  no  longer  necessary. 

Mr.  Lockliart  has  farther  observed  that  had  Burns  "taken  up 
the  subject  of  this  rural-  communion  in  a  solemn  mood,  he  might 
have  produced  a  piece  as  gravely  beautiful  as  his  '  Holy  Fair '  is 
quaint,  graphic,  and  picturesque.  Nay,"  adds  the  critic,  "  I  can 
easily  .imagine  a  scene  of  family  worship  to  have  come  from  his 
hand  as  pregnant  with  the  ludicrous  as  the  'Holy  Fair'  itself." 
In  these  circumstances,  we  cannot  be  too  thankful  that  Burns 
followed  his  own   instincts  in  the   mode  of  treating  both  subjects.] 

(In  another    strain  Lockhart  elsewhere  says: — That    the   "Holy 

*  At  gaps  in  the  fences  which  offer  convenience  for  sitting  down,  the  young 
fellows  halt  a  tnonicnt  till  the  lasses  strip  off  their  shoes.  Scotch  girls  in  Burns' 
days  walked  more  easily  barefooted  than  with  shoes ;  besides,  there  was  the  ques- 
tion of  economy. — ^J.  H. 


272  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

Fair ' '  was  the  last  and  best  of  that  series  of  satires  wherein  the 
same  set  of  persons  were  lashed.  "  Here,"  says  that  critic,  "  unlike 
the  others  that  have  been  mentioned,  satire  keeps  its  own  place 
and  is  subservient  to  the  poetry  of  Burns.  This  is  indeed  an 
extraordinary  performance ;  no  partizan  of  any  sect  can  whisper 
that  malice  has  formed  its  principal  inspiration,  or  that  its  chief 
attraction  lies  in  the  boldness  with  which  individuals,  entitled 
and  accustomed  to  respect,  are  held  up  to  ridicule.  Immediately 
on  its  publication,  it  was  acknowledged  (amidst  the  sternest  mut- 
terings  of  wrath)  that  national  manners  were  once  more  in  the 
hands  of  a  Nationai,  Poet." 

Dr.  Norman  Macleod,  the  highly-gifted  and  genial  minister  of 
the  Barony  parish,  Glasgow,  and  editor  of  Good  Words,  seems  to 
cast  doubt  on  the  "Holy  Fair"  as  a  picture  of  life  and  manners, 
even  in  Burns'  day.  He  says  : — "  It  has  been  the  fashion  indeed 
of  some  people  who  know  nothing  about  Scotland  or  her  Church 
to  use  Burns  as  an  authority  for  calling  such  meetings  '  Holy 
Fairs.'  What  they  may  have  been  in  the  days  of  the  Poet,  or 
how  much  he  may  himself  have  contributed  to  profane  them  I 
know  not.  But  neither  in  Ayrshire  nor  anywhere  else,  have  I 
ever  been  doomed  to  behold  so  irreverent  and  wicked  a  spectacle 
as  he  portrays."  Dr.  Macleod  was  the  son  of  a  Highland  manse, 
and  came  to  Ayrshire  when  the  breath  of  the  coming  Disruption 
was  beginning  to  be  felt.  The  "  Holy  Fair  "  is  a  strong,  but  scarcely 
an  exaggerated,  picture  of  many  a  sacrament  in  the  southwest 
of  Scotland  at  which  the  writer  has  been  present  in  his  youth. 
The  drinking  commonly  took  place  in  the  houses  of  poor  people 
near  the  scene,  to  whom  the  little  profit  was  an  object.  Of  course 
they  had  no  license.  When  farm  servants  were  hired  in  upper 
Nithsdale  it  was  common  to  stipulate  for  a  holiday  either  on 
Thornhill  race  fair  or  the  Brig  o'  Scaur  sacrament ;  and  the 
Brig  o'  Scaur  congregation  were  Cameronians  !  Chambers  tells  us 
that  in  Bums'  time  this  poem  was  much  relished  by  the  moderate 
clergy,  Dr.  Blair  declaring  it  to  be  the  most  masterly  satire  of  its 
kind  in  existence. — J.  H.) 

The  communion  was  administered  at  Mauchline  in  those  days 
but  once  a  year,  namely,  on  the  second  Sunday  of  August ;  and 
Chambers,  considering  that  any  portion  of  the  year  1785  was  too 
early  a  date  for  this  composition,  sets  it  down  as  being  nearly 
the  last  piece  produced  by  Bums  prior  to  the  publication  of  his 
poems  in  July  17S6.  The  "Ordination"  was  certainly  a  pro- 
duction of  February  of  that  year,  and  we  feel  bound  to  regard 
"The  Holy  Fair"  as  a  riper  performance,  composed  somewhat 
farther  on  in  the  season. 

In  the  opening  of  the  "Holy  Fair,"  Fergusson's  "  Leith  Races" 
is    evidently    closely    followed    as  a  model ;    an    imaginary    being 


^r.  28.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  273 

called  "Mirth"  conducts  the  Edinbursjh  poet  to  the  scene  of 
enjoyment,  exactly  as  "  Fuu "  in  this  poem  conveys  Burns  to 
"  Mauchline   Holy   Fair."] 


SONG,  COMPOSED  IN  SPRING. 

Tune — "Johnny's  Grey  Breeks." 
(Edinburgh  Ed.,  1787.) 

Again  rejoicing  Nature  sees 

Her  robe  assume  its  vernal  hues  : 

Her  leafy  locks  wave  in  the  breeze, 
All  freshly  steep' d  in  morning  dews. 

Chorus. — And  vimin  I  still  on  Menie  doat,  must 
And  bear  the  scorn  that's  in  her  e' e  ?      eyt 
For  it's  jet,  jet-black,  an'  it's  like  a  hawk, 

An'   it  whlJia  let  a  body  be.*      win  not    person  alone 

In  vain  to  me  the  cowslips  blaw^  bioon- 

In  vain  to  me  the  vi'lets  spring  ; 

In  vain  to  me  in  glen  or  shaw, 

The  mavis  and  the  lintwhite  sing,    thrush     Unne» 
And  maun  I  still,   &c. 

The  merry  ploughboy  cheers  his  team, 

Wi'  joy  the  tentie  seedsman  stalks  ;  careful 

But  life  to  me's  a  weary  dream, 

A  dream  of  ane  that  never  ivauks.  awakens 

And  maun  I  still,  &c. 

The  wanton  coot  the  water  skims, 
Amang  the  reeds  the  ducklings  cry, 

The  stately  swan  majestic  swims. 
And  ev'ry  thing  is  blest  but  I. 

And  maun  I  still,   &c. 

♦This  chorus  is  part  of  a  sonfj  composed  by  a  gentleman  in  Kdinburph,  a  pan 
ticular  friend  of  the  author's.     Menie  is  the  common  abbreviation  of  Mariamua 
—R.  li.     More  correctly,  it  is  the  abbreviate  of  Marion. 
I.  R 


274  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [17S6. 

The  slieep-lierd  stccks  his  faiilding  slap^      foid^Tl 
And  o'er  the  moorlands  whistles  shill;  shriu 

Wi'  wild,  unequal,  wandering  step, 
I  meet  him  on  the  dewy  hill. 

And  maun  I  still,  &c. 

And  when  the  lark,   'tween  light  and  dark, 
Blythe  zvaiikens  by  the  daisy's  side,        awakens 

And  mounts  and  sings  on  flittering  wings, 
A  woe-worn  ghaist  I  hameward  glide.        ghost 
And  maun  I  still,  &c. 

Come  winter,  with  thine  angry  howl. 
And  raging,  bend  the  naked  tree  ; 

Thy  gloom  will  soothe  my  cheerless  soul, 
When  nature  all  is  sad  like  me  ! 

And  maun  I  still,  &c. 

[The  author  must  have  had  a  very  special  reason  for  the 
retention,  through  all  his  own  editions,  of  this  chorus,  apparently 
so  inappropriate  to  the  sentiment  of  the  song.  His  main  purpose 
was  to  shew  that  slighted  love  was  the  cause  of  his  mourning ; 
and  he  told  the  truth  in  his  foot-note  about  the  chorus  being 
"part  of  a  song  composed  by  a  gentleman  in  Edinburgh,  a  par- 
ticular friend  of  the  author's."  This  "gentleman  in  Edinburgh" 
was  none  other  than  the  bard  himself,  who  of  course  was  his 
own  "  particular  friend  ;  "  and  the  substitution  of  the  name  "  Menie  " 
for  Jeanie  was  a  necessary  part  of  the  little  ruse  he  chose  here 
to  adopt.  In  like  manner,  he  poured  forth  about  the  same  time  his 
"  Lament  occasioned  by  the  unfortunate  issue  of  a  friend'' s  amour." 

The  pride  of  Burns  seems  to  have  been  galled  to  the  extreme 
by  the  position  assumed  by  Jean  and  her  parents,  at  the  time 
when  the  poet's  acknowledgment  of  a  private  marriage  with  Jean 
was  formally  torn  up  in  scorn. 

The  chorus  of  this  song,  however  jarring  it  may  seem  to  the 
mere  reader  of  the  text,  hat/  no  such  effect  when  sung  in  slowish 
time  along  with  the  body  of  the  song,  to  the  tune  actually  chaunted 
by  the  poet  when  in  the  act  of  composing  it.  Gray's  "Elegy" 
was  present  in  his  thoughts,  while  engaged  with  this  composition, 
as  well  as  that  which  immediately  follows  ;  and  indeed  the  poet 
acknowledges  this  in  his  note  to  Kennedy  which  enclosed  the 
"Mountain  Daisy."  The  similarity  between  verse  sixth  of  this 
song  and  verse  second  of  the  "Daisy,"  needs  no  pointing  out.] 


^•T.  28.]  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  275 

TO  A  MOUNTAIN  DAISY. 

ON  TURNING  ONE  DOWN  WITH   THE)  PLOUGH,  IN  APRIL  1 786. 
(Kilmarnock  Ed.,  1786.) 

Wee,  modest,  crimson-tipped  flow'r, 

Thou's  met  me  in  an  evil  hour ; 

For  I  inaiin  crush  amang  the  stoiire         must     dust 

Thy  slender  stem  : 
To  spare  thee  now  is  past  my  pow'r, 

Thou  bonie  gem. 

Alas!  it's  no  thy  neibor  sweet, 

The  bonie  lark,  companion  meet. 

Bending  thee  '' mang  the  dewy  zveet^         among     wet 

Wi'  sprcckP  d  breast  !  speckled 

When  upward-springing,  blythe^  to  greet  giad 

The  purpling  east. 

Cauld  blew  the  bitter-biting  north  coid 

Upon  thy  early,  humble  birth  ; 

Yet  cheerfully  thou  glinted  forth  giancej 

Amid  the  storm, 
Scarce  rear'd  above  the  parent-earth 

Thy  tender  form. 

The  flaunting  flow'rs  our  gardens  yield, 

High  shelf  ring  woods  and  zud'  s  maiDi  shield  ;  must) 

But  thou,  beneath  the  random  bicld  shelter 

O'  clod  or  stane,  of 

Adorns  the  histie  stibblc  field,  parched     stubbie 

Unseen,  alane. 

There,  in  thy  scanty  mantle  clad, 

Thy  snawie  bosom  sun-ward  spread,  anow? 


276  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

Thou  lifts  tliy  unassuming  head 

In  humble  guise  ; 
But  now  the  share  uptears  thy  bed, 

And  low  thou  lies! 

Such  is  the  fate  of  artless   maid, 
Sweet   flow' ret  of  the  rural  shade  ! 
By  love's  simplicity  betray' d, 

And  guileless  trust ; 
Till  she,  like  thee,  all  soil'd,  is  laid 

Low  z'  the  dust.^  m 

Such  is  the  fate  of  simple  bard, 

On  life's  rough  ocean  luckless  starr'd ! 

Unskilful  he  to  note  the  card 

Of  prudent  lore. 
Till  billows  rage,  and  gales  blow  hard, 

And  whelm  him  o'er ! 

Such  fate  to  suffering  worth  is  giv'n. 
Who  long  with  wants  and  woes  has  striv'n, 
By  human  pride  or  cunning  driv'n 

To  mis'ry's  brink  ; 
Till  wrench' d  of  ev'ry  stay  but  Heav'n, 

He,  ruin'd,  sink  ! 

Ev'n  thou  who  mourn' st  the  Daisy's  fate, 
That  fate  is  thine — no  distant  date  ; 
Stern  Ruin's  plough-share  drives  elate, 

Full  on  thy  bloom, 
Till  crush' d  beneath  the  furrow's  weight, 

Shall  be  thy  doom  !  * 


*  An  intelligent  observer  of  his  own  courses  of  action  and  the  causes  leading  up 
to  them  will  often  trace  these  to  the  pervading  tone  or  color  of  his  mind  at  the 
time.  Burns  when  plowing  the  grass-rigs  of  Mossgiel  on  this  April  morning, 
was  carrying  in  hio  bosom  the  reflection  that  Jean  Armour  had  renounced  him, 
aud  that  her  father  was  taking  steps  to  unchain  on  him  the  sleuthhounds  of  the 
law.  His  whole  mental  horizon  was  tinged  with  gloom,  and  his  exquisitely  sym- 
pathetic nature  led  him  to  see  a  type  of  his  own  fate  in  the  destruction  of  "the 
meanest  flower  that  blows."  He  had  plowed  down  a  thousand  daisies  before  this, 
but  not  one  of  them  all  ever  roused  reflection  like  this,  or  tuned  his  lyre  to  sing 
so  sweet  and  sadly  sympathetic  song. 


^T.  28.]  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  277 

[On  20th  April  1786,  our  poet  enclosed  this  "little  gem"  to  his 
friend  John  Kennedy.  In  that  MS.  it  is  called  "The  Gowan,"  a 
title  subsequently  changed   for   the   English   appellation,  as   above. 

Regarding  this  poem,  Bums  says,  "I  am  a  good  deal  pleased 
with  some  of  the  sentiments,  as  they  are  just  the  native  querulous 
feelings  of  a  heart  which  (as  the  elegantly  melting  Gray  says) 
'  melancholy  has  marked  for  her  own. '  "  It  is  curious  to  note  that 
the  closing  couplet  of  each  of  the  four  concluding  verses  begins 
with  the  same  word — "Till." 

Grahame,  the  author  of  "The  Sabbath,  and  other  poems,"  has 
the  following  fine  apostrophe  to  the  lark,  in  connection  with  the 
text  of  this  and  the  preceding  poem : — 

"  Thou,  simple  bird 
Of  all  the  vocal  qi:ire,  dwell'st  in  a  home 
The  humblest,  yet  thy  morning  song-  ascends 
Nearest  to  heaven  ;— sweet  emblem  of  his  song 
Who  sung  thee  wakening  by  the  daisy's  side  !" 

We  have  referred  to  Gray  the  poet  as  having  furnished  some 
impulse  to  Bums  in  these  pieces ;  and  we  are  indebted  to  Dr.  Car- 
ruthers  for  pointing  out  that  the  image  in  the  closing  verse  of  the 
text  is  derived  from  Dr.  Young  : — 

"Stars  rush,  and  final  Ruin  fiercely  drives 
His  plough-share  o'er  creation." — Night  ix.] 

(This  exquisite  piece,  like  those  to  "The  Mouse"  and  "The 
Wounded  Hare,"  shgw  us  Burns  at  his  best  morally  and  poetically. 
They  disclose  his  profound  sympathy  with  nature  in  her  simplest 
forms,  his  abounding  tenderness  for  the  humblest  of  God's  creatures, 
and  his  marvellous  power  to  extract  lessons  of  purest  morality  and 
wisdom  from  the  simplest  texts ;  while  their  perfect  natural  ease 
and  charm  of  expression  confer  on  them  a  beauty  almost  peculiarly 
their  own.  What  a  commentary  does  this  little  piece  furnish  ou 
Shakespere's  memorable  dictum :  "  One  touch  of  Nature  makes 
the  whole  world  kin  !  "  Bums'  own  manifold  afllictions  call  forth 
his  pity  for  "  tlie  meanest  flower  that  grows"  in  its  hour  of  mi.s- 
fortune,  even  for  an  upturned  Daisy.  Wordsworth's  sympathies 
were  profoundly  moved  by  this  and  similar  effusions,  more  espe- 
cially as  they  seemed  to  foreshadow  the  bard's  own  destiny.  Allan 
Cunningham  tells  us  that  he  changed  the  title  of  this  piece  and 
his  manner  of  spelling  his  name  (from  Burness  to  Bums)  about  the 
same  time. — J.  H.) 


Had  Jean  Annour  not  dcstTted  him,  would  we  ever  have  had  this  ininiit.nbly 
tender  lyric?  To  the  same  cause  we  have  to  trace  the  mournful  but  charming 
episode  with  Highland  Mar>',  but  for  which  the  world  would  have  wanted  not 
only  the  fiue  songs  addressed  to  her,  but  the  sublime  and  patlictic  lines  dedi- 
cated to  her  memory. — J.  H. 


278  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  1 1786 

TO  RUIN. 

(Kii,MARNOCK  Ed.,  1786.) 

All  liail,  inexorable  lord  ! 

At  whose  destruction-breathing  word, 

The  mightiest  empires  fall  ! 
Thy  cruel,  woe-delighted  train, 
The  ministers  of  grief  and  pain, 

A  sullen  welcome,  all  !         ^ 
With  stern-resolv'd,  despairing  eye, 

I  see  each  aimed  dart ; 
For  one  has  cut  my  dearest  tie. 
And  quivers  in  my   heart. 
Then  low' ring,  and  pouring. 

The  stonn  no  more  I  dread  ; 
Tho'  thick' ning,  and  black' ning, 
Round  my  devoted  head. 

And  thou  grim  Pow'r  by  life  abhorr'd, 
While  life  a  pleasure  can  afford, 

Oh  !  hear  a  wretch's  pray'r  ! 
No  more  I  shrink  appall' d,  afraid  ; 
I  court,   I  beg  thy  friendly  aid. 
To  close  this  scene  of  care  ! 
When  shall  my  soul,   in  silent  peace, 

Resign  life's  joyless  day — 
My  weary  heart  its  throbbings  cease, 
Cold  mould' ring  in  the  clay? 
No  fear  more,  no  tear  more, 

To  stain  my  lifeless  face. 
Enclasped,   and  grasped, 
Within  thy  cold  embrace  I 

[Here  the  tone  of  the  closing  stanza  of  the  "Daisy"  is  taken 
up,  and  the  theme  expanded  into  a  little  ode.  Allan  Cunningham 
was   disposed   to  see  in  this  piece   some  reference  to  apprehended 


^T.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  279 

ruin  through  the  failure  of  the  poet's  fanning  efforts  at  Mossgiel ; 
but  it  was  the  scornful  eye  of  Jean — "jet,  jet-black,  and  like  a 
hawk,"  that  still  haunted  him;  and  he  singles  out,  from  the  thick- 
flying  darts  of  destruction  around  him,  the  one  that 


.    .    .    .    "  has  cut  my  dearest  tie, 
Aud  quivers  in  my  heart." 


In  the  autobiography,  he  tells  us,  in  reference  to  tne  occasion  of 
the  "Lament,"  that  it  nearly  cost  him  the  loss  of  his  reason. 
Gilbert  adds  that  "The  'Lament'  was  composed  after  the  first 
distraction  of  his  feelings  had  a  little  subsided."] 


THE  LAMENT. 

OCCASIONED   BY    THE   UNFORTUNATE  ISSUE  OF  A   FRIEND'S 

AMOUR. 

(KlI,MARNOCK  Bd.,    1786.) 

"  Alas !  how  oft  does  goodness  wound  itself, 
And  sweet  affection  prove  the  spring  of  woe !" 


Home. 


0  THOU  pale  orb  that  silent  sliines 
While  care-iintroubled  mortals  sleep  ! 

Thou  seest  a  wretch  who  iuly  pines, 
And  wanders  here  to  wail  and  weep  ! 

With  woe  I  nightly  vigils  keep, 

Beneath  thy  wan,  unwarming  beam  ; 

And  mourn,  in  lamentation  deep. 
How  life  and  love  are  all  a  dream  ! 

1  joyless  view  thy  rays  adorn 
The  faintly-marked,   distant  hill  ; 

I  joyless  view  thy  trembling  horn, 
Reflected  in  the  gurgling  rill  : 

My  fondly-fluttering  heart,  be  still  ! 

Thou  busy  pow'  r,  remembrance,  cease  \ 

Ah  !  must  the  agonizing  thrill 
For  ever  bar  returning  peace  ! 


280  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

No  idly-feign'd,  poetic  pains, 

My  sad,  love-lorn  lamentings  claim  : 
No  shepherd's  pipe — Arcadian  strains  ; 

No  fabled  tortures,   quaint  and  tame. 
The  plighted  faith,  the  mutual  flame, 

The  oft-attested   pow'rs  above, 
The  promis'd  father's  tender  name  ; 

These  were  the  pledges  of  my  love  ! 


Encircled  in  her  clasping  arms,        > 

How  have  the  raptur'd  moments  flown  ! 
How  have  I  wish'd  for  fortune's  charms, 

For  her  dear  sake,  and  her's  alone  ! 
And,  must  I  think  it !  is  she  gone. 

My  secret  heart's  exulting  boast? 
And  does  she  heedless  hear  my  groan? 

And  is  she  ever,   ever  lost? 


Oh  !  can  she  bear  so  base  a  heart, 

So  lost  to  honor,  lost  to  truth, 
As  from  the  fondest  lover  part. 

The  plighted  husband  of  her  youth  ! 
Alas  !  life's  path  may  be  unsmooth  ! 

Her  way  may  lie  thro'  rough  distress  ! 
Then,  who  her  pangs  and  pains  will  soothe, 

Her  sorrows  share,  and  make  them  less? 


Ye  winged  hours  that  o'er  us  pass'd, 

Enraptur'd  more,   the  more  enjoy' d, 
Your  dear  remembrance  in  my  breast 

My  fondly-treasur'd  thoughts  employ'd: 
That  breast,  how  dreary  now,  and  void, 

For  her  too  scanty  once  of  room  ! 
Ev'n  ev'ry  ray  of  hope  destroy' d. 

And  not  a  wish  to  gild  the  gloom  ! 


J 


^T.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  281 

The  morn,   that  warns  th'  approaching  day, 

Awakes  me  up  to  toil  and  woe  ; 
I  see  the  hours  in  long  array, 

That  I  must  suffer,  lingering  slow  : 
Full  many  a  pang,  and   many  a  throe, 

Keen  recollection's  direful  train, 
Must  wring  my  soul,  ere  Phoebus,  low, 

Shall  kiss  the  distant  western  main. 

And  when  my  nightly  couch  I  try. 

Sore  harass' d  out  with  care  and  grief, 
My  toil-beat  nerves,  and  tear-worn  eye, 

Keep  watchings  with  the  nightly  thief: 
Or  if  I  slumber,  fancy,  chief, 

Reigns,  haggard-wild,   in  sore  affright : 
Ev'n  day,  all-bitter,  brings  relief 

From  such  a  horror-breathing  night. 

O  thou  bright  queen,  who,  o'er  th'  expanse 

Now  highest  reign' st,  with  boundless  sway  ! 
Oft  has  thy  silent-marking  glance 

Observ'd  us,   fondly-wand'ring,  stray  ! 
The  time,  unheeded,  sped  away. 

While  love's  luxurious  pulse  beat  high. 
Beneath  thy  silver-gleaming  ray, 

To  mark  the  mutual-kindling  eye. 

Oh  !  scenes  in  strong  remembrance  set ! 

Scenes,  never,  never  to  return  ! 
Scenes,   if  in  stupor  I  forget, 

Again  I  feel,  again  I  burn  ! 
From  ev'ry  joy  and  pleasure  torn, 

Life's  weary  vale  I'll  wander  thro'; 
And  hopeless,  comfortless,   I'll  mourn 

A  faithless  woman's  broken  vow  ! 

[This  highly-finished  poem  contains  passages  nearly  equal  to  any 
in  the  Address  to  "Mary  in  heaven."     The  reader  will  observe,  that 


282  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

every  stanza  contains  four  lines  that  rhyme  together, — a  feat  in 
versification  which  "A  Dream"  again  exhibits  in  a  twofold  degree 
•^a  double  somersault  of  rhyme,  in  short.  Dr.  Currie  has  referred 
to  the  eighth  stanza,  describing  a  sleepless  night  from  anguish  of 
mind,  as  being  of  peculiarly  striking  excellence,  nor  should  the 
finely  minute  touch  in  the  third  line  of  the  second  stanza  *'  I  joy- 
less view  thy  trembling  horn,"  be  overlooked.  The  "trembling" 
could  be  visible  only  to  an  eye  filled  by  a  grief-begotten  tear. 

It  is  scarcel}'  necessary  to  say  that  the  "Unfortunate  Friend"  is 
Burns  himself  Only  dear-bought  experience  could  have  enabled 
him  to  depict  thus  truthfully  the  horrors  of  anger,  shame,  retcorse, 
and  disappointed  love.  The  mere  exercise  of  producing  this  and 
kindred  pieces  helped  to  soothe  the  poet's  embittered  feelings ;  and 
the  wholesome  excitement  in  connection  with  the  printing  of  his 
poems  completed  the  cure. — J.  H.] 


DESPONDENCY— AN  ODE. 

(KlI^MARNOCK    Ed.,     1786.) 

Oppress' D  with  grief,  oppress' d  with  care, 
A  burden  more  than  I  can  bear, 

I  set  me  down  and  sigh  ; 
O  life  !  thou  art  a  galling  load, 
Along  a  rough,  a  weary  road. 

To  wretches  such  as  I  ! 
Dim-backward  as  I  cast  my  view, 
What  sick'ning  scenes  appear  ! 
What  sorrows  yet  may  pierce  me  through, 
Too  justly  I  may  fear  ! 
Still  caring,  despairing, 

Must  be  my  bitter  doom  ; 
My  woes  here  shall  close  ne'er 
But  with  the  closing  tomb  ! 

Happy  !  ye  sons  of  busy  life, 
Who,  equal  to  the  bustling  strife. 
No  other  view  regard  ! 


4eT.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  283 

Ev'n  when  the  wished  end's  denied, 
Yet  while  the  busy  means  are  plied, 

They  bring  their  own  reward  : 
Whilst  I,  a  hope-abandon' d  wight, 

Unfitted  with  an  aim, 
Meet  ev'ry  sad  returning  night. 
And  joyless  mourn  the  same  ! 
You,  bustling  and  justling, 

Forget  each  grief  and  pain  ; 
I,  listless,  yet  restless, 
Find  ev'ry  prospect  vain. 

How  blest  the  solitary's  lot. 
Who,  all-forgetting,  all-forgot, 

Within  his  humble  cell, 
The  cavern,  wild  with  tangling  roots — 
Sits  o'er  his  newly-gather'd   fruits. 

Beside  his  crystal  well  ! 
Or  haply,  to  his  ev'ning  thought. 

By  unfrequented  stream, 
The  ways  of  men  are  distant  brought, 
A  faint,  collected  dream  ; 
While  praising,   and  raising 

His  thoughts  to  heav'n  on  high, 
As  wand' ring,   meand'ring, 
He  views  the  solemn  sky. 

Than  I,  no  lonely  hermit  plac'd 
Where  never  human  footstep  trac'd, 

Less  fit  to  play  the  part ; 
The  lucky  moment  to  improve. 
And  just  to  stop,  and  just  to  move, 

With  .self-respecting  art  : 
But  ah  !  those  pleasures,   loves,  and  joys, 

Which  I  too  keenly  taste. 
The  solitary  can  despise — 

Can  want,   and  yet  be  blest  ! 


284  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786 

He  needs  not,  lie  heeds  not, 

Or  human  love  or  hate  ; 
Whilst  I  here  must  cry  here 

At  perfidy  ingrate  ! 

O  enviable  early  days, 

When  dancing  thoughtless  pleasure's  maze, 

To  care,   to  guilt  unknown  ! 
How  ill  exchang'd  for  riper  times, 
To  feel  the  follies,  or  the  crimes, 

Of  others,  or  my  own  !  > 

Ye  tiny  elves  that  guiltless  sport, 

Like  linnets  in  the  bush, 
Ye  little  know  the  ills  ye  court, 
When  manhood  is  your  wish  ! 
The  losses,   the  crosses. 

That  active  man  engage  ; 
The  fears  all,  the  tears  all. 
Of  dim  declining  Age  ! 

\  In  this  poem,  the  same  theme  as  that  pursued  through  the 
fovir  preceding  pieces  is  exhausted  in  a  very  satisfactory  manner. 
Apparently  tired  himself  of  stringing  mournful  rhymes  about  Jean's 
"perfidy  ingrate,"  he  sets  himself  to  give  his  youthful  compeers 
the  benefit  of  his  dear-bought  experience  in  such  words  as 
these : — 

"  Even  when  the  wished-for  end's  denied, 
Yet,  while  the  busy  means  is  plied, 
These  bring  their  own  reward." 

With  enchanting  words  of  the  tenderest  wisdom,  he  —  only 
twenty -seven  years  old — speaks  of  his  own  "enviable  early  days," 
and  then,  as  if  under  the  sanction  of  mature  age,  addresses  his 
young  readers  thus  : — 

"Ye  tiny  elves  that  g^Jiltless  sport, 
Ivike  linnets  in  the  bush  ; 
Ye  little  know  what  ills  ye  court. 
When  manhood  is  your  wish !"  &c. 

Meanwhile,  Jean  had  been  sent  off  to  Paisley,  to  avoid  seeing  her 
poet-lover,   whose  heart,   like   that  of   Nature    herself,    abhorred  a 


^T.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  285 

vacuum.  At  this  juncture  he — all  unobserved — consoled  himself  by 
cultivating  a  ' '  reciprocal  attachment ' '  with  a  generous-hearted 
maiden  resident  in  his  neighborhood,  whose  name  he  afterwards 
made  immortal  by  the  strength  and  beauty  of  his  musings  over 
the  memory  of  those  stolen  interviews.] 


TO  GAVIN  HAMILTON,  ESQ.,  MAUCHLINE, 

RECOMMENDING  A  BOY. 
(Cromek,   1808.) 

Mossgaville,  May  j,  17S6. 

I  HOLD  it,  sir,  my  boimden  duty 

To  warn  you  how  that  ' '  Master  Tootie, ' ' 

Alias,    "Laird  M'Gaun," 
Was  here  to  hire  yon  lad  away  yonder 

'  Bout  whom  ye  spak  the  tithcr  day,      spoke     other 

An'    Z£/<7^ /^«^  don't  ^^ //««'/ would  have    rightaway 

But  lest  he  learn  the  callan  tricks —  boy 

An'  faith  I  miickle  doubt  him —  much 

Like  scrapin  out  auld  criimmic'  s  nicks,*    old  cows 
An'  tellin  lies  about  them  ; 

As  licvc  then,   I'd  have  then,  wiiiingiy 

Your  clerkship  he  should  sair^  scn-c 

If  sae  be  ye  may  be 
Not  fitted  otherwhere. 

Altho'   I  say't,  he's  gl(\s;  enouf!:h,  smart 

An'  bout  a  house  that's  rude  an'   rough, 
The  boy  might  learn  to  swear  ; 


♦Tootie  was  a  niok-name  of  "Laird  McOaun,"  who  lived  in  Mauchline  and 
dealt  in  cows.  The  rings  on  a  cow's  horn,  like  tlic  marks  of  a  horse's  teeth, 
show  her  age.  It  is  the  custom  of  fra<i(iiileiit  (k-alers,  and  even  fanners,  to  scrape 
out  certain  of  the  rings  or  "  nicks"  to  make  her  look  yo\inger  tlinn  she  is.  S\ich 
persons  are  in  Scotland,  called  "  nick -scrapers."  They  correspond  nearly  to 
'  sncck-drawers" — see  note  on  "  .Sneck-drawing,"  p.  u)i.  We  are  not  to  suppose 
that   Mr.    McGauu,  though  styled  a  "  laird,"   had  any  real  claim  to  the  title.     He 


286  POEMS   AND   SONGS.  [1786. 

But  then  wi'  you  he'll  be  sae  taught, 
An'  get  sic  fair  example  str aught ^       such     straight 
I  hae  na  ony  fear.  *  have  not  any 

Ye' 11  catechise  him,  every  quirk. 

An'  shore  him  weel  wi'    "hell;"  frighten 

An'  gar  him  follow  to  the  kirk —  make 

Ay  when  ye  gang  yoursel.f  always     go 

If  ye  then,   maun  be  then  must 

Frae  hame  this  comin  Friday,  from 

Then  please  sir,  to  lea'e^  sir,  leave 

The  orders  wi'  your  lady^ 

My  word  of  honor  I  hae  gV  en^  g^ven 

In  Paisley  John's,  %  that  night  at  e'en. 

To  meet  the  ''zvarld's  wormr  '"'"'ItXr^"''} 
To  try  to  get  the  twa  to  gree^  come  to  terms 

An'  name  the  airles  an'  the  fee.^  eamest-money    wages 

In  legal  mode  an'  form  : 
I  ken  he  weel  a  sneck  can  draw,  § 
When  simple  bodies  let  him  ; 
An'  if  a  Devil  be  at  a'. 

In  faith  he's  sure  to  get  him. 
To  phrase  you  an'  praise  you, 
Ye  ken  your  Laureat  scorns  : 
The  pray'r  still,  you  share  still, 
Of  grateful  Minstrel  Burns. 

[This  ofF-hand  production   explains  itself.      The  poet  was  about 
to  part  with  one  of  the  boys  on   his   farm,   whose  services  were 


might  own  a  "  pendicle"  of  land  of  an  acre  or  two  in  extent,  but  the  title  is  quite 
often  given,  half  derisively,  to  old  men  of  some  little  prominence  in  a  village  or 
country  community. — J.  H. 

*  Note  the  sly  caustic  humor  in  the  emphasized  you  in  the  fourth  line  of  the 
second  Stanza,  and  compare  it  with  the  first  two  lines  of  stanza  twelfth  of  "  Holy 
Willie's  Prayer."— J.  H. 

t  Another  hit  at  Gavin  Hamilton.  He  was  threatened  with  church  censures  for 
his  neglect  of  the  ordinances  as  dispensed  by  "  Daddy  Auld."  See  "Holy  Willie's 
Prayer,"  stanza  13. 

X  John  Dow's  inn.    John  was  a  Paisley  man. — J.  H. 

gSee  note  "  sneck-drawing, "  p.  191. 


^T.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  287 

coveted  by  "Master  Tootie,"  a  dishonest  dealer  in  cows.  The 
boy  had  also  attracted  the  attention  of  Gavin  Hamilton,  and  Burns, 
who  much  preferred  that  the  boy  should  serve  Hamilton,  wrote 
this  note  to  him  by  way  of  warning. 

In  the  second  verse,  the  poet  has  imitated  the  "Madam  Blaize  " 
of  Goldsmith — 

"  Her  love  was  sought,  I  do  aver,  by  twenty  beaux  and  more: 
The  king  himself  has  followed  her— when  she  has  walked  before."] 


VERSIFIED  REPI.Y  TO  AN  INVITATION. 
(Hogg  and  Motherwei,!.,  1834.) 

Sir, 

Yours  this  moment  I  unseal, 

And  faith  I'm  gay  and  hearty  ! 
To  tell  the  truth  and  shame  the  deil, 

I  am  as  foil  as  Bartie  :  *  fuu 

But  Foorsday^  sir,  my  promise  leal^  Thursday     loyai 

Expect  me  o'  your  partie. 
If  on  a  beastie  I  can  speel^  horse     ciimb 

Or  hurl  in  a  cartie.  nde     cart 

Yours, 

Robert  Burns. 

MACHiyiN,  Monday  night,  10  o'clock. 

[From  the  fact  of  the  poet's  name  being  spelled  here  with  one 
syllable,  we  must  conclude  that  it  was  written  after  14th  April 
1786,  when  he  first  adopted  the  contracted  form.  The  original 
MS.  which  has  been  long  preserved  in  the  Paisley  Library,  affords 
no  clue  to  the  name  of  the  person  thus  addressed.] 


*  Possibly  Bartie  was  some  peasant's  misnomer  for  the  Baltic,  which  may  have 
tickled  Burns  and  his  friend.  "As  fu'  as  the  Baltic"  is  a  common  Scotch  phrase, 
and  "as  fu'  as  Bartie"  may  be  only  an  ignorant  man's  travestie  of  it— J.  H. 


288  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  [1786, 


SONG— WILL   YE   GO   TO   THE    INDIES, 
MY  MARY? 

Tune. — "  Ewe-Eughts,  Marion." 

(CURRIE,    1800.) 

Will  ye  go  to  the  Indies,  my  Mary, 
And  leave  auld  Scotia's  shore?  oW 

Will  ye  go  to  the  Indies,  my  M3ry, 
Across  th'  Atlantic's  roar? 

0  sweet  grows  the  lime  and  the  orange, 
And  the  apple  on  the  pine  ; 

But  a'  the  charms  o'   the  Indies 
Can  never  equal  thine. 

1  hae  sworn  by  the  Heavens  to  my  Mary,     have 
I  hae  sworn  by  the  Heavens  to  be  true  ; 

And  sae  may  the  Heavens  forget  me,  so 

When  I  forget  my  vow  ! 

O  plight  me  your  faith,  my  Mary, 
And  plight  me  your  lily-white  hand  ; 

O  plight  me  your  faith,  my  Mary, 
Before  I  leave  Scotia's  strand. 

We  hae  plighted  our  troth,  my  Mary, 

In  mutual  affection  to  join  ; 
And  curst  be  the  cause  that  shall  part  us  ! 

The  hour  and  the  moment  o'  time  ! 

[This  song,  addressed  to  the  living  Mary  Campbell,  was  composed 
at  some  date  apparently  from  the  middle  of  March  to  14th  May 
1 786.  Whether  she  was  then  serving  as  a  nursery-maid  with  Gavin 
Hamilton,  in  Mauchline,  or  in  service  elsewhere,  it  is  impossible 
to  determine.     The  popular   belief  is  that    Mary    was    feyres-woman 


!^.  28.]  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  289 

or  dairy-maid  at  Coilsfield  House,  when  Bums  set  his  affections 
on  her  ;  but  that  idea  has  no  foundation  that  we  are  aware  of, 
beyond  a  traditional  conjecture,  first  printed  in  Chambers's  "Scottish 
Songs,"  1829.  The  tradition  naturally  took  its  rise  from  the  fact 
so  tenderly  recorded  by  the  poet,  that  his  final  tryst  with  her  was 
in  that  neighborhood.  Besides  the  song  in  our  text,  one  or  two 
others,  identified  with  Mary  Campbell  as  their  subject,  have  been 
preserved.  One  of  these  is  a  Prayer  for  Mary's  protection  during 
the  author's  wanderings  abroad ;  and  another  indicates  that  the 
frowns  of  fortune  had  determined  him  to  "cross  the  raging  sea," 
in  order 

"That  Indian  wealth  may  lustre  throw 
Around  my  Highland  lassie,  O." 

The  poet,  in  his  autobiography,  after  referring  to  his  distraction 
caused  by  Jean's  supposed  "perfidy,"  says  —  "I  gave  up  my  part 
of  the  farm  to  my  brother,  and  made  what  little  preparation  was 
in  my  power  for  Jamaica ;  but  before  leaving  my  native  country 
for  ever,  I  resolved  to  publish  my  poems."  On  20th  March,  he 
arranged  to  meet  Robert  Muir  at  Kilmarnock,  to  forward  that 
object;  and  on  3d  April,  he  was  just  "sending  his  proposals  to 
the  press."  One  would  conclude  that  the  work  of  arranging  and 
preparing  his  poems  for  the  printer  —  not  to  mention  his  indus- 
trious composing  of  fresh  poems  to  fill  the  volume  —  was  enough 
to  occupy  his  head,  and  hands,  without  the  introduction  of  the 
Highland  Mary  episode  at  such  a  time.  Nevertheless,  he  did 
manage,  amid  all  these  engagements,  to  cultivate  the  "pretty  long 
tract  of  reciprocal  attachment "  which  preceded  the  final  parting 
with  Mary  on  Sunday,  14th  May.  Such  were  the  strange  circum- 
stances under  which  this  song  was  composed.  The  inscriptions  on 
the  "Highland  Mary  bible,"  particularly  noticed  in  connection 
with  the  song  which  follows,  are  highly  suggestive  of  mystery  and 
secrecy  in  this  rash  courtship  and  inopportune  betrothal. 

In  October  1792,  the  poet  offered  this  lyric  to  George  Thomson  as 
a  substitute  or  companion-song  for  "The  Ewe-Bughts,  Marion"; 
but  that  gentleman  did  not  adopt  it.  It  is  not  to  be  understood 
from  the  opening  line  of  the  song,  that  Burns  asked  Mary  to 
accompany  him  to  the  West  Indies ;  for  his  words  to  Thomson 
are,  "I  took  the  ioWoyiing  farewell  of  a  dear  girl."] 


I.  s 


290  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

MY  HIGHLAND  LASSIE,*  O. 

(Johnson's  Museum,  1788.) 

Nae  gentle  Asimts^  tho'  ne^ers2ie.  fair,  high-bom  e'ef 

Shall  ever  be  my  muse's  care  : 

Their  titles  a'  are  empty  show  ; 

Gie  me  my  Highland  lassie,  O.  give 

Chorus. — Within  the  glen  sae>  bushy,  O, 
Aboon  the  plain  sae  rashy^  O,       above     rushy 

I  set  me  down  wi'  right  guid  will,  good 

To  sing  my  Highland   lassie,  O. 

0  were  yon  hills  and  vallies  mine. 
Yon  palace  and  yon  gardens  fine  !  f 
The  world  then  the  love  should  know 

1  bear  my  Highland  lassie,  O. 

But  fickle  fortune  frowns  on  me. 

And  I  viaun  cross  the  raging  sea  ;  must 

But  while  my  crimson  currents  flow, 

I'll  love  my  Highland  lassie,  O. 

Altho'   thro'  foreign  climes  I  range, 
I  know  her  heart  will  never  change. 
For  her  bosom  burns  with  honor's  glow, 
My  faithful  Highland  lassie,  O. 

For  her  I'll  dare  the  billows'  roar, 
For  her  I'll  trace  a  distant  shore, 
That  Indian  wealth  may  lustre  throw 
Around  my  Highland  lassie,  O. 


*We  note  again  the  fine  musical  effect  of  the  Scotch  termination  ie.    It  is  not 
merely  a  diminutive,  but  it  carries  with  it  a  feeling  of  endearment.— J.  H. 
t  Referring  to  Coilsfield  Mansion  House.— J.  H. 


Mr.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  291 

She  has  my  heart,  she  has  my  hand, 
By  secret  troth  and  honor's  band  ! 
'Till  the  mortal  stroke  shall  lay  me  low, 
I'm  thine,  my  Highland  lassie,  O. 


Farewell  the  glen  sae  bushy,  O  ! 
Farewell  the  plain  sae  rashy,  O  ! 
To  other  lands  I  now  must  go, 
To  sing  my  Highland   lassie,  O. 


[The  cuts  at  the  end  of  this  note,  represent  very  faithfully  the 
inscriptions  and  symbolic  markings  on  the  bible  presented  by  Bums 
to  Mary  at  their  parting.  The  printer's  date  on  the  title-page  is 
1782.  When  Mary  died,  in  October  1786,  the  volumes  were  taken 
care  of  by  her  mother,  who  survived  till  August  1828.  Several 
years  before  that  event,  she  had  presented  the  bible  to  Mary's 
surviving  sister,  Anne,  the  wife  of  Janies  Anderson,  a  stone-mason. 
That  generation  had  passed  away,  when  the  precious  relic,  together 
with  a  lock  of  Highland  Bhify's  hair,  turned  up  at  Montreal,  in 
Canada,  about  the  year  1840,  whither  they  had  been  carried  by 
William  Anderson,  a  son  of  Mary's  sister.  Several  Scottish  resi- 
dents of  that  city  subscribed  and  purchased  the  relics  from  Ander- 
son, with  the  object  of  having  them  deposited  in  the  poet's 
monument  at  Ayr.  Accordingly,  on  ist  January  1841,  they  were 
formally  handed  for  this  purpose  to  Provost  Limont  of  Ayr. 

So  early  as  1828,  Mr.  Lockhart  remarked  that  Cromek's  inter- 
esting details  of  the  parting  ceremonials  which  are  supposed  to 
have  been  transacted  between  the  poet  and  Mary  at  their  final 
meeting,  "have  recently  been  confirmed  very  strongly  by  the 
accidental  discovery  of.  a  bible  presented  by  Burns  to  Mary 
Campbell,  in  the  possession  of  her  surviving  sister."  He  quotes 
the  inscription  from  Leviticus  and  St.  Matthew  very  accurately, 
and  adds,  "that  on  the  blank  leaf  opposite  one  of  these  texts  is 
written — 'Robert  Burns,  Mossgiel.' " 

An  examination  of  those  sacred  relics  suggests  the  probability 
that  poor  Mary,  on  seeing  the  certain  approach  of  death,  had 
wilfully  erased  her  own  name  and  that  of  her  poet  lover,  by  wetting 
the  writing  and  drawing  her  fingers  across  it,  obliterating  the 
surnames  to  the  state  in  which  they  now  appear. 

On  the  fly-leaf  of  Volume  I.  of  the  bible,  the  name,  "  Mary 
Campbell,"  followed  by  the  poet's  mason-mark,  had  been  inscribed; 


292 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


[1786. 


the   latter  is  still  nearly  entire ;    but  the   name   has  been  almost 
completely  erased,  thus  : — 


% 


/ 


a 


The  corresponding  blank-leaf  in  Volume  II.  had  contained  the 
poet's  name  and  address,  with  the  mason-mark  subjoined  ;  but  these 
also  have  been  subjected  to  an  erasing  process ;  and  now  we  can 
only  trace  as  follows  : — 


lK- 


(That  the  love  of  Burns  for  Highland  Mary  was  of  a  deep  and 
lasting  character  is  abundantly  proven  by  the  eloquent  heart  throbs 
to  which  he  gave  utterance  in  "Mary  In  Heaven." 

If  Mary  sunk  into  the  grave  without  revealing  the  fact  of  her 
betrothal  to  Burns,  it  seems  equally  certain  that  Burns  never  whis- 
pered her  name  to  a  living  soul  till  three  years  after  her  decease. 
It  was  only  when  the  surpassing  beauty  and  pathos  of  his  sublime 
dirge — "To  Mary  in  Heaven" — awakened  a  curiosity  which  he 
could  not  avoid  in  some  degree  to  satisfy,  that  he  uttered  a  few 
vague  particulars  of  her  story.  It  was  a  mysterious  episode  in  the 
life  of  Burns,  of  which  the  world  can   never  learn  the  full  facts. 


^T.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  293 

On  the  whole  we  incline  to  give  assent  to  the  utterance  of  his 
"spiritual  biographer,"  Dr.  Waddell :  —  "  In  connection  with  this 
there  was  neither  guilt,  nor  the  shadow  of  guilt  on  his  con- 
science." 

&m — T-/ 

'     -Mad:  3^, 

Any  Mason  will   recognise  the  solemn   importance  which  Burns 
attached  to  this  record  of  his  vows. — J.  H.) 


EPISTLE  TO  A  YOUNG  FRIEND. 
(Kilmarnock  Ed.,  1786.) 

May  ,   1786. 

I  LANG  hae  thought,   my  youth fii'   friend,       have 

A  somethiniL^  to  have  sent  yon, 
Tho'   it  should  serve  7iac  ithcr  end  uo  other 

Thau  just  a  kind  memento  : 


294 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


[1786. 


But  how  the  subject-theme  may  gong^ 
Let  time  and  chance  determine  ; 

Perhaps  it  may  turn  out  a  sang  ; 
Perhaps,   turn  out  a  sermon. 

Ye' 11  try  the  world  soon,  my  lad  ; 

And,  Andrew  dear,  believe  me, 
Ye' 11  find  mankind  an  unco  squad, 

And  mtickle  they  may  grieve  ye  : 
For  care  and  trouble  set  your  thought, 

Ev'n  when  your  end's  attained  ; 
And  «'  your  views  may  come  to  nought, 

Where  ev'ry  nerve  is  strained. 


•TO 


strange 
much 


all 


I'll  no  say,  men  are  villains  a'; 

The  real,  harden' d  wicked, 
Wha  hae  nae  check  but  human  law, 

Are  to  a  few  restricket ; 
But,  och  !  mankind  are  unco  weak, 

An'  little  to  be  trusted  ; 
If  SELF  the  wavering  balance  shake, 

It's  rarely  right  adjusted  ! 


have  no 

restricted 

uncommonly 


Yet  they  wha  fa^  in  fortune's  strife, 

Their  fate  we  shoiildna  censure  ; 
For  still,  th'  important  end  of  life 

They  equally  may  answer  : 
A  man  may  hae  an  honest  heart, 

Tho'  poortith  hourly  stare  him  ; 
A  man  may  tak  a  neibor's  part,* 

Yet  hae  nae  cash  to  spare  him. 

Ay  free,  aff  han' ,  your  story  tell. 
When  wi'  a  bosom  crony ; 

But  still  keep  something  to  yoursel 
Ye  scarcely  tell  to  ony  : 


fall 
should  not 


have 
poverty 

take 
have  no 

off  hand 
comrade 

any 


•Be  inclined  to  befriend  and  help  a  neighbor.— J.  H. 


ax.  28.]  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  295 

Conceal  yoursel  as  weel's  ye  can 

Frae  critical  dissection  ; 
But  keek  thro'  ev'  ry  other  man,  peer  keenly 

Wi'  sharpen' d,  sly  inspection. 

The  sacred  /owe  <?'  weel-plac'd  love,  flame  of 

Luxuriantly  indulge  it  ; 
But  never  tempt  th'   illicit  rove, 

Tho'  naething  should  divulge  it : 
I  waive  the  quantum  o'   the  sin, 

The  hazard  of  concealing  ; 
But,  och  !  it  hardens  a'  within. 

And  petrifies  the   feeling  ! 

To  catch  dame  Fortune's  golden  smile, 

Assiduous  wait  upon  her  ; 
And  gather  ^-ear  by  ev'ry  wile  wealth 

That's  justify' d  by  honor  ; 
Not  for  to  hide  it   in  a  hedge, 

Nor  for   a  train  attendant  ; 
But  for  the  glorious  privilege 

Of  being  independent. 

The  fear  o'  hell's  a  hangman's  whip, 

To  /mitd  the  wretch  in  order  ;  hold  {ke^p) 

But  where  ye  feel  your  honor  grip, 

Let  that  ay  be  your  border  : 
Its  slightest  touches,  instant  pause — 

Debar  a'  side-pretences  ; 
And  resolutely  keep  its  laws, 

Uncaring  consequences. 

The  great  Creator  to  revere. 

Must  sure  become  the  creature  ; 
But  still  the  preaching  cant  forbear, 

And  ev'n  the  n<Ad  feature  : 


296  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1786^ 

Yet  ne'er  with  wits  profane  to  range, 

Be  complaisance  extended  ; 
An  atheist-laugh's   a  poor  exchange 

For  Deity  offended  ! 

When  ranting  round  in  pleasure's  ring, 

Religion  may  be  blinded  ; 
Or  if  she  gie  a  random  sting,  give 

It  may  be  little  minded  ; 
But  when  on  life  we're  tempest-driv'n — 

A  conscience  but  a  canker —  without 

A  correspondence  fix'd  wi'   Heav'n, 

Is  sure  a  noble  anchor  ! 

Adieu,  dear,  amiable  youth  ! 

Your  heart  can  ne'er  be  wanting! 
May  prudence,   fortitude,  and  truth. 

Erect  your  brow  undaunting  ! 
In  ploughman  phrase,   "God  send  you  speed," 

Still  daily  to  grow  wiser  ; 
And  may  ye  better  reck  the  r<?<3'<?,  attend  to  the  counsel 

Than  ever  did  th'  adviser  ! 

[The  young  friend  here  so  sagaciously  addressed  was  Andrew 
Aiken,  sou  of  the  poet's  early  patron  Robert  Aiken,  to  whom  the 
"Cottar's  Saturday  Night"  is  inscribed.  He  afterwards  engaged  in 
mercautile  pursuits  in  Iviverpool,  where  he  prospered,  and  was  ulti- 
mately appointed  English  consul  at  Riga,  at  which  port  he  died  in 
1831.  Andrew's  son,  Peter  F.  Aiken,  passed  as  an  advocate  in 
Edinburgh  :  but  instead  of  practising  the  law,  he  became  a  banker 
in  Bristol,  where  he  still  survives  in  honorable  retirement. 

In  a  holograph  copy  of  this  epistle,  dated  "  Mossgiel,  May  15th 
1786,"  the  following  additional  stanza  is  introduced,  immediately 
after  the  sixth  verse  : — 

"  If  ye  hae  made  a  step  aside — 

Some  hap  mistake  o'erta'en  you,         chance       overtaken 
Yet  still  keep  up  a  decent  pride. 
And  ne'er  o'er  far  demean  you  ;* 

*  Do  not  lower  yourself  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  by  unnecesSBxy  coniie»ion» 
and  ostentatious  professions  of  repentance. — J.  H. 


iST.  28.J  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  297 

Time  comes  wi'  kind  oblivious  shade, 

And  daily  darker  sets  it ; 
And  if  nae  mair  mistakes  are  made,  no  more 

The  warld  soon  forgets  it." 


Chambers  well  remarks  that  "the  admirable  taste  of  the  poet  had 
doubtless  observed  this  verse  to  be  below  the  rest  iu  terseness  aud 
point,  and  therefore  caused  him  to  omit  it  iu  printing."*  The 
latter  half  of  stanza  fifth  has  been  the  subject  of  some  criticism. 
In  1851,  Chambers  thus  directed  attention  to  it  in  a  foot-note:— 
"  It  is  not  often  that  the  sagacity  of  Burns  is  open  to  challenge  ; 
but  here  certainly  he  is  not  philosophically  right.  It  must  always 
be  a  questionable  maxim  which  proposes  to  benefit  the  individual 
at  the  expense  of  his  fellow-creatures,  or  which,  if  generally  fol- 
lowed, would  neutralise  itself^as  this  would  do."  This  objection 
was  not  relished  by  some  of  the  poet's  admiring  countrymen  :  in 
particular,  the  Scoisma7i,  in  reviewing  Chambers's  labors,  remarked 
that  his  comments,  "  when  free  from  platitude,  are  not  always  void 
of  offence.  The  spectacle  of  Mr.  Chambers,  or  indeed  almost  any 
man,  lecturing  upon  Burns  as  deficient  in  generosity,  frankness,  and 
boldness  of  spirit,  does  not  harmonise  with  one's  idea  of  the  fitness 
of  things." 

One  of  the  poet's  early  Carrick  associates — the  late  William 
Niven,  of  Kilbride,  Maybole — always  asserted  that  this  epistle  was 
originally  addressed  to  him,  and  shifted  to  Andrew  Aiken  as  a 
more  profitable  investfnent  of  his  rhyming  ware.  Niven  unfortu- 
nately could  never  prove  his  assertion  by  production  of  the  original ; 
and  there  exists  a  letter  from  Burns  to  Niven  dated  30th  August 
1786 — a  month  after  the  publication  of  the  poem — which  is  couched 
in  the  most  friendly  terms,  and  refers  to  a  recent  hobnobbing 
between  the  poet  and  him  at  Maybole,  but  contains  no  allusion  to 
this  "  Epistle."  On  the  other  hand,  the  Rev.  Hamilton  Paul,  in 
1S19,  adverts  to  Niven's  assertion  as  being  a  well-known  fact,  and 
calls  it  "the  sole  instance  of  disingenuousuess  which  we  have  heard 
charged  again.st  Burns."] 

(This  "Advice  to  a  Young  Friend"  takes  rank  with  Shakcspere's 
Advice  to  a  Son,  put  in  the  mouth  of  Polonius.  Together  they 
constitute  the  two  master-pieces  of  the  world  as  precepts  for  the 
guidance  of  young  men.  "  Stanza  6  on  '  The  sacred  lowe  o'  wecl- 
placed  love,'  is,"  says  Waddell,  "beyond  criticism.  .  .  Let  every 
youth  inshrine  it,  as  a  most  precious  golden  maxim,  in  his  soul." 
-J.  H.) 


*  We  presume  to  differ  from  Chambers  in  his  estimate  of  this  verse.  We  con- 
iider  it  as  good  as  any  in  the  Epistle,  and  sound,  wise  and  "unco"  human. — 
J.  H. 


298  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

ADDRESS  OF  BEELZEBUB. 

(Edinburgh  Magazine,  1818.) 

To  the  Right  Honorable  the  Earl  of  Breadalbane,  President 
of  the  Right  Honorable  and  Honorable  the  Highland  Society, 
which  met  on  the  23d  ot  May  last,  at  the  Shakspeare,  Covent 
Garden,  to  concert  ways  and  means  to  frustrate  the  designs  of 
five  hundred  Highlanders  who,  as  the  Society  were  informed  by 
Mr.  M'Kenzie  of  Applecross,  were  so  audacious  as  to  attempt 
an  escape  from  their  lawful  lords  and  mastery  whose  property 
they  are,  by  emigrating  from  the  lands  of  Mr.  Macdonald  of 
Glengarry  to  the  wilds  of  Canada,  in  search  of  that  fantastic 

thing — LIBERTY.  * 

Long  life,  my  lord,  an'  health  be  yours, 
UnskaitJi' d  by  hunger' d  Highland  boors  ;    unharmed 
Lord  grant  nae  duddie^  desperate  beggar,         ragged 
Wi'  dirk,  claymore,  and  rusty  trigger, 
May  twin  auld  Scotland  o'  a  life  deprive 

She  likes — as  lambkins  like  a  knife. 

Faith,  you  and  Applecross  were  right 

To  keep  the  Highland  hounds  in  sight : 

I  doubt  na  !  they  wad  bid  nae  hotter^  would  purpose  no 

Than  let  them  ance  out  owre  the  water,     once  over 

Then  up  amang  thae  lakes  and  seas,  these 

They'll  9nak  what  rules  and  laws  they  please  :    make 

Some  daring  Hancock,  f  or  a  Franklin, 

May  set  their  Highland  bluid  a-ranklin  ;  biood  a-boiUng 

Some  Washington  again  may  head  them. 

Or  some  Montgomery,   fearless,  lead  them  ; 

*The  present  condition  of  the  colony  of  Glengarry,  Ontario,  Canada,  is  such  as 
must  gratify  the  heart  of  every  philanthropist  and  loyal  Scotsman.  The  descen- 
dants of  these  escaped  crofters  of  Glengarry  are  now  a  virtuous,  cultured,  pros- 
perous race,  as  enthusiastically  Highland  as  in  the  days  when  they  "followed 
to  the  field  their  warlike  lord."  They  have  found  not  only  Liberty,  but  Indepen- 
dence as  well. — J.  H. 

t  John  Hancock  of  Massachusetts  whose  name  stands  first  among  the  signa« 
tures  to  the  Declaration  of  Independence. — J.  H. 


^T.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  299 

Till  (God  knows  what  may  be  effected 

When  by  such  heads  and  hearts  directed), 

Poor  dunghill  sons  of  dirt  and  mire 

May  to  Patrician  rights  aspire  ! 

Nae  sage  North  now,  nor  sager  Sackville,     ^^^  ^^. 

To  watch  and  premier  o'er  the  pack  vile, — premier/ 

An'  ivhare  will  ye  get  Howes  and  Clintons    where 

To  bring  them  to  a  right  repentance — 

To  cowe  the  rebel  generation,  awe 

An'  save  the  honor  o'  the  nation? 

They,  an'  be  d — d  !  what  right  hae  they  have 

To  meat,  or  sleep,  or  light  o'  day  ? 

Far  less — to  riches,  pow'r,  or  freedom. 

But  what  your  lordship  likes  to  gie  them  ?        give 


But  hear,  my  lord  !  Glengarry,  hear  ! 

Your  hand's  owre  light  on   them,  I  fear  ;  too 

Yowx  factors^  grieves^  trustees,  and  agents  ^ 

bailies  *  land-stewards/ 

I  canna  say  but  they  do  gay  lies  ;  tolerably  well 

They  lay  aside  a'   tender  mercies. 
An'  tirl  the  hallions  to  the  birses  ;  f 
Yet  while  they're  only  poind'' t  and  hcrriet^  distrained) 
They'll  keep  their  stubborn  Highland  spirit :  '^^'-'-i'^^di 
But  smash  them  !  crash  them  a'  to  spails^        chips 
An'  rot  the  dyvors  V  the  jails  !  bankrupts  in 

The  young  dogs,  swinge  them  to  the  labor  ; 
Let  wark  an'  hunger  mak  them  sober  !  ^^""^ 

The  Jiizzies,  if  they're  aiightlins  fazusont,^^^^^^^^^^ 
Let  them  in  Drury-lane  be  lesson'd!| 
An'   if  the  wives  an'  dirty  brats  cuiuircn 

Come  thiggin  at  your  doors  an'  yetts^    begging    gates 


*  Bailirs.    The  Baron's  deputy  in   his  dotnains.     Tliis  is  not  to  be  confounded 
with  tlie  bailie  of  a  royal  burgh.     Tlierc  the  term  answers  to  our  alderman. — J.  II. 
fAnd  strip  the  ragged  rascals  to  their  hairy  hides. — J.  H. 
\  Drury  l,aue  was  noted  for  nymphs  of  the  pave. — J.  II. 


300  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  [1786. 

Flaffin  wi'  duds,  an'  grey  wi'  beas',* 

Frightin  away  your  ducks  an'  geese  ;  frightening 

Get  out  a  horsewhip  or  a  jowler^  buiidog 

The  langest  thong,  the  fiercest  growler, 

An'  gar  the  tatter' d  gypsies  pack  make 

Wi'  a'  their  bastards  on  their  back  ! 

Go  on,  my  Lord  !  I  lang  to  meet  you,  long 

An'  in  my  ' '  house  at  hame ' '  to  greet  you  ; 

Wi'  common  lords  ye  shanna  mingle,  shaiinot 

The  benmost  neuk  beside  the  ingle,^ 

At  my  right  han'  assigned  your  seat, 

'Tween  Herod's  hip  an'   Poly  crate  ; 

Or  (if  you  on  your  station  tarrow)^  disreUsh 

Between  Almagro  and  Pizarro, 

A  seat,  Pm  sure  ye' re  weel  deservin't ; 

An'  till  ye  come — your  humble  servant, 

Beelzebub. 

June  1st,  Anno  Mundi  5790. 

[This  curious  production  must  have  been  a  hasty  one,  and  not 
much  regarded  by  its  author.  The  only  known  copy  was  presented 
to  Mr.  John  Rankine  of  Adamhill,  and  through  him  passed  into 
the  hands  of  a  friend  who  sent  it  for  publication  to  the  editor 
of  the  Edinburgh  Magazine  for  February  1818. 

M'Kenzie  of  Applecross  is  remembered  as  a  liberal-minded, 
patriotic  man,  who  strove  to  improve  the  condition  of  his  ten- 
antry. His  views  and  those  of  the  Highland  Society  must  have 
been  misapprehended  by  the  bard  when  he  put  this  address  into 
the  mouth  of  "Beelzebub."  The  signature  of  that  august  person- 
age, detached  from  the  poem,  is  preserved,  among  other  autographs 
of  Bums,  in  the  collection  of  W.  F.  Watson,  Esq.,  Edinburgh.] 

(This  "Address"  is  remarkable  chiefly  as  exhibiting  the  con- 
densed energy  of  expression  already  attained  by  a  ploughman  lad 
who  had  never  been  twenty  miles  from  home.  The  six  lines 
beginning  "Then  tirl  the  hallions  "  are  of  matchless  vigor;  and  yet 
with  all  their  wrathful  vehemence  and  fury  every  word  is  as  accu- 
rately appropriate  as  if  they  had  been  written  by  Pope  or  Addison. 
-J.  H.) 

*  Fluttering  in  rags  and  grey  with  beasts  {lice). — J.  H. 
t  The  innermost  corner  beside  the  fire. — ^J.  H. 


;ftT.  28.J  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  301 


A  DREAM. 

(KlI^MARNOCK  Ed.,    1786.) 

Thoughts,  words,  and  deeds,  the  Statute  blames  with  reason ; 
But  surely,  Dreams  were  ne'er  indicted  Treason. 

On  reading,  in  the  public  papers,  the  Laureate's  Ode,  with 
the  other  parade  of  June  4th,  1786,  the  Author  was  no  sooner 
dropt  asleep,  than  he  imagined  himself  transported  to  the 
Birth-day  Levee :  and,  in  his  dreaming  fancy,  made  the  fol- 
lowing Address  : — 

GuiD-MORNiN  to  your  Majesty! 

May  Heaven  augment  your  blisses 
On  ev'ry  new  birth-day  ye  see, 

A  humble  pcet  wishes. 
My  hardship  here,  at  your  lycvee 

On  SIC  a  day  as  this  is,  such 

Is  sure  an  uncouth  sight  to  see, 

Amang  i/uie  birth -day  dresses  these 

Sae  fine  this  day. 

I  see  ye' re  complimented  thrang^  tusiiy 

By  mony  a  lord  an'   lady  ; 
*'God  save  the  King  "  's  a  cuckoo  sang 

That's  unco  easy  said  ay  :  very 

The  poets,  too,  a  venal  gang, 

Wi'  rhymes  weel-tum'd  an'  ready, 
Wad^^r  you  trow  ye  ne'er  do  wrang,  make    believe 

But  ay  unerring  steady. 

On  sic  a  day.  such 

For  me  !  before  a  monarch's  face, 

Ev'n  there  I  winna  flatter;  win  not 

For  neither  pension,  post,   nor  place, 

Am  I  your  humble  debtor  : 


302  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

So,  nae  reflection  on  your  Grace,  no 

Your  Kingship  to  bespatter  ; 
There's  mony  waitr  been  o'  the  race,  worse 

And  aibliiis  ane  been  better  mayhap  one 

Than  you  this  day. 

'Tis  very  true,  my  sovereign  King-, 

My  skill  may  weel  be  doubted  ; 
But  facts  are  chiels  that  winna  ding, 

An'  downa  be  disputed:  * 
Your  royal  nest,  beneath  your  wing. 

Is  e'en  right  reft  an'  clouted^  riven     patched 

And  now  the  third  part  o'  the  string, 

An'  less,  will  gang  about  it 

Than  did  ae  day.f 

Far  h^tfrae  me  that  I  aspire  from 

To  blame  your  legislation, 
Or  say,  ye  wisdom  want,  or  fire 

To  rule  this  mighty  nation  : 
But  faith  !  I  muckle  doubt,  my  sire,  much 

Ye've  trusted  ministration 
To  chaps  wlia  in  a  barn  or  byre   fellows      cow-stabie 

Wad  better  fill'd  their  station,  would 

Than  courts  yon  day. 

And  now  ye've  gieii  auld  Britain  peace,  griven 

Her  broken  shins  to  plaister ;  piaster 

Your  sair  taxation  does  her  fleece,  sore 

Till  she  has  scarce  a  tester:  sixpence 


*  This  is  one  of  Bums'  apothegms  that  have  become  world-wide  :  Facts  are 
chiels  that  will  not  be  overthrown  and  cannot  be  disputed. — J.  H. 

t  The  poet  here  alludes  to  the  immense  curtailment  of  the  British  dominions 
which  took  place  only  three  years  before  writing  this  poem — viz.  at  the  close  of 
the  American  War,  when,  by  the  treaties  of  1783,  the  independence  of  the  thir- 
teen United  States  was  acknowledged,  and  the  extensive  territory  of  Louisiana, 
acquired  by  the  treaty  of  1763,  was  again  restored  to  Spain.— Motherwell. 


^T.  28.]  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  303 

For  me,   thank  God,   my  life's  a  lease, 

Nae  bargain  wearin  faster. 
Or  faith  !  I  fear,   that,  wi'   the  geese, 

I  shortly  boost  to  pasture  should  behove 

I'  the  crafi'^  some  day. 

I'm  no  mistrusting  Willie  Pitt, 

When  taxes  he  enlarges, 
(An'  Will's  a  true  guid  fallow's  get^  child 

A  name  not  envy  spairges)^\  asperses 

That  he  intends  to  pay  your  debt, 

An'  lessen  a'  your  charges  ; 
But,  G — d  sake  !  let  nae  saving  fit 

Abridge  your  bonie  barges 

An'   boats  this  day.| 

Adieu,  my  lyiege  !  may  Freedom  geek  exuit 

Beneath  your  high  protection  ; 
An'  may  ye  rax  Corruption's  neck,  stretch 

And  gie.  her  for  dissection  !  §  give 

But  since  I'm  here,   I'll  no  neglect. 

In  loyal,   true  affection. 
To  pay  your  Queen,   wi'   due  respect, 

My  fealty  an'  subjection 

This  great  birth-day. 


Hail,   Majesty  most  Excellent  ! 

While  nobles  strive  to  please  ye, 
Will  ye  accept  a  compliment, 

A  simple  poet  gics  ye  ?  gives 


*A  small  piece  of  jrround  adjoining  the  house.  Hence  the  word  cra/tcr  or 
crofter,  one  who  cultivates  a  craft  or  croft.— J.  H. 

+  Burns  had  a  high  admiration  for  the  Karl  of  Chatham,  father  of  Pitt.— J.  H. 

\  In  the  spring  of  1786,  some  discussion  arose  in  parliament  about  a  proposal 
to  give  up  64  gun  ships,  when  the  navy  supplies  were  being  considered. 

J  Persons  who  were  hanged  were  given  for  dissection. — J.  11. 


304 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


[1786. 


Thae  bonie  baimiime^  Heav'n  has  lent,     children 
Still  higher  may  they  heeze  ye  elevate 

In  bliss,  till  fate  some  day  is  sent, 
For  ever  to  release  ye 

Frae  care  that  day.  ftxwi 

For  you,  young  Potentate  o'  Wales,* 

I  tell  your  Highness  fairly, 
Down  Pleasure's  stream,  wi'  swelling  sails, 

I'm  taidd  ye' re  driving  rarely  ;  told 

But  some  day  ye  may  gnaw  your  nails, 

An'  curse  your  folly  sairly^  sorely 

That  e'er  ye  brak  Diana's  pales,  brok« 

Or  rattl'd  dice  wi'  Charlie  f 

By  night  or  day. 

Yet  aft  a  ragged  coiuf  s  been  known,        rough  coit 

To  mak  a  noble  aiver ;  cart-horse 

So,  ye  may  doucely  fill  a  throne,  decently 

For  a'  their  clish-ma-daver  :  gossip  and  scandal 

There,  him  %  at  Agincourt  wha  shone, 

Few  better  were  or  braver  ; 
And  yet,  wi'  funny,  queer  Sir  John,  § 

He  was  an  unco  shaver 

For  mony  a  day. 

For  you,  right  rev' rend  Osnaburg,  I| 

Nane  sets  the  lawn-sleeve  sweeter,  none 

Altho'  a  ribban  at  your  lug  ear 

Wad  been  a  dress  completer : 

As  ye  disown  yon  paughty  dog,  haughty 

That  bears  the  keys  of  Peter, 


•Afterwards  George  IV. — J.  H. 

t  Charles  James  Fox,  the  distinguished  orator  and  statesman,  but  a  confirmed 
gambler,  &c. — J.  H. 
\  King  Henry  V.—R.  B.  ?Sir  John  Falstaff,  vid.  Shakspeare.— .ff.  B. 

I  Frederick,  first  a  Bishop,  and  afterwards  Duke  of  York. 


^T.   28.] 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


305 


Then  swith!  an'  get  a  wife  to  hug,  quick 

Or  trowth^  ye' 11  stain  the  mitre  in  truth 

Some  luckless  day  ! 

Young,  royal  '■'' tarry-breeks^^^  I  learn,    tarry-breechea 

Ye've  lately  come  athwart  her — 
A  glorious  galley,*  stem  and  stem, 

Weel  rigg'd  for  Venus'  barter ; 
But  first  hang  out  that  she'll  discern 

Your  hymeneal  charter ; 
Then  heave  aboard  your  grapple-azVw,  iroo 

An',  large  upon  her  quarter. 

Come  full  that  day. 

Ye,  lastly,  bonie  blossoms  a', 

^c  royal  lasses  dainty, 
Heav'n  mak  you  guid  as  weel  as  braw^    dressed  f 

An'  gic  you  lads  a-plenty  !  give    beaux 

But  sneer  na  British  boys  awa  !  not 

For  kings  are  unco  scant  ay,  very  scarce 

An'  German  gentles  are  but  sma\ 

They're  better  just  than  want  ayf 

On  07iy  day.  any 

God  bless  you  a'  !  consider  now, 

Ye' re  unco  muckle  dautet ;  very  much  petted 

But  ere  the  course  o'  life  be  through. 

It  may  be  bitter  saute t: 
An'  I  liae  seen  their  coggie  fou^ 

That  yet  hae  tarrow'tj  at  it; 
But  or  the  day  was  done,   I  troWy 

The  laggen  §  they  hae  clautet 

Fu'  clean  that  day. 


salted 
bowl  full 


scraped 


*  Alluding  to  the  newspaper  account  of  a  certain  Royal  sailor's  amour.— A".  />'. 
This  was  Prince  William  Henry,  afterwards  King  William  IV.  who  in  his  youth 
espoused  Mrs.  Jordan  the  actress. 

t  German  princes  are  of  but  small  account  as  husbands  for  British  princesses, 
they  are  just  better  than  none.— J.  H. 

JTo  tarrow  is  to  linger  over  a  dish  from  distaste  or  satiety. — J.  IT. 

2  The  laggen  is  the  augle  between  the  side  and  bottom  of  a  wooden  dish.— J.  H, 

I.  X 


306  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

[The  poet's  letter  to  Mrs.  Dunlop  (April  30th,  1787,)  gives  us  a 
hiut  of  some  of  the  difficulties  he  had  to  steer  through,  in  his 
endeavors  to  be  on  good  terms  vpith  patrons,  and  yet  retain  his 
independence.  Allan  Cunningham  has  observed  that  "the  merits 
of  '  The  Dream '  are  of  a  high  order — the  gaity  as  well  as  keen- 
ness of  the  satire,  and  the  vehement  rapidity  of  the  verse,  are 
not  its  only  attractions.  Even  the  prose  introduction  is  sarcastic; 
his  falling  asleep  over  the  Laureate's  Ode  was  a  likely  conse- 
quence, for  the  birth-day  strains  of  those  times  were  something 
of  the  dullest."  Few  poetical  couplets  are  oftener  quoted  than 
those  in  verse  fourth  :— 

Facts  are  chiels  that  winna  ding, 
An'  downa  be  disputed. 

The  poem  throughout  has  been  long  regarded  as  prophetic]  (The 
closing  lines,  which  seem  to  prognosticate,  oi^  at  least  hint  at, 
possible  changes  threatening  the  Royal  Family  of  England  similar 
to  those  which  were  then  impending  over  the  Bourbons,  were, 
happily,  not  verified.  Allan  Cunningham  tells  us  that  Burns  was 
solicited  by  Mrs.  Dunlop  and  Mrs.  Stewart  of  Stair  to  omit  this 
piece  from  his  Edinburgh  edition,  but  in  vain ;  and  he  says  he 
has  heard  the  neglect  shown  by  the  Government  to  the  Poet 
imputed  to  "The  Dream."— J.  H.) 


A  DEDICATION 

TO  GAVIN  HAMILTON,   ESQ. 
(KUCMARNOCK  Ed.,    1786.) 

Expect  na,  sir,  in  this  narration, 
A  fieechin^  JletK'  rin  Dedication,         begging     flattering 
To  roose  you  up,  an'  ca'  you  guid^  praise     good 

An'  sprung  o'  great  an'  noble  bluid^  biood 

Because  ye' re  sumam'd  like  His  Grace — * 
Perhaps  related  to  the  race  : 

Then,  when  I'm  tir'd — and  sae  are  ye,  so 

Wi'  niony  a  fulsome,  sinfu'  lee —  ijs 

Set   up   2,  face  how   I    StOpt   short,  pretence  thai 

For  fear  your  modesty  be  hurt. 

The  Duke  of  Hamilton,  the  premier  peer  of  Scotland. — J.  H. 


'EX.  28.]  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  307 

This  may  do — maun  do,  sir,  wi^  them         must^ 

■'  '  '  with/ 

wha  ^ho 

Maun  please  the  great-folk  for  a  wamefou;  beiiyfui 

For  me  !  sae  laigh  I  need  na  bow,  low 
For,   Lord  be  thanket,  I  can  plough  ; 
And  when  I  downa  yoke  a  naig^              cannot     nag 
Then,  Lord  be  thanket,   I  can  beg  ;  * 

Sae  I  shall  say — an'  that's  nae  flatt'rin —  not 

It's  just  sic  poet  an'  sic  patron.  such 

The  Poet,  some  guid  angel  help  him,  good 

Or  else,  I  fear,  some  ill  ane  skelp  him  !  one  spank 

He  may  do  weel  for  a'  he's  done  yet,  weii 
But  only — he's  no  just  begun  yet. 

The  Patron  (sir,  ye  maun  forgie  me  ; 
I  winna  lie,  come  what  will  d'  me),         wiirnot     of 
On  ev'ry  hand  it  will  allow' d  be. 
He's  just — nae  better  than  he  shou'd  be. 

I  readily  and  freely  grant. 

He  downa  see  a  poor  man  want ;  cannot 
What's  no  his  ain^  he  ivinna  tak  it  ;     own      win  not 

What  ance  he  says,  he  winna  break  it  ;  once 
Ought  he  can  lend  he'll  no  refus't. 

Till  aft  his  gladness  is  abus'd  ;  goodness 
And  rascals  whyles  that  do  him  wrang,       sometimes 

Ev'n   that,    he   does    7ia   mind  it   /<2?Z^/ not  long  remember 

As  master,  landlord,  husband,  father. 
He  does  na  fail  his  part  in  either. 

But  then,  nae  thanks  to  him  for  a'  that ;        no 
Nae  godly  symptom  ye  can  cd'  that ;  call 

It's  nae  thing  but  a  milder  feature 
Of  our  poor,  sinfu',  corrupt  nature  : 

*  Bums  here  again'  refers  to  begging  as  a  by  no  means  improbable  or  very  dis- 
tasteful, dernier  resort.  See  Note  on  the  equanimity  with  which  the  Scotch  peas- 
antry contemplated  this  resource:  "Epistle  to  Davie,"  p.  87. 


308  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

Ye' 11  get  the  best  o'  moral  works, 

"^ Mang  black  Gentoos,  and  pagan  Turks,         among 

Or  hunters  wild  on  Ponotaxi, 

Wha  never  heard  of  orthodoxy. 

That  he's  the  poor  man's  friend  in  need, 

The  gentleman  in  word  and  deed, 

It's  no  thro'  terror  of  d-mn-t-n ; 

It's  just  a  carnal  inclination. 

Morality,  thou  deadly  bane. 
Thy  tens  o'  thousands  thou  hast  slain  ! 
Vain  is  his  hope,   whase  stay  an'  trust  is  whose 

In  moral  mercy,  truth,  and  justice  \ 

No — stretch  a  point  to  catch  a  plack;  penny 

Abuse  a  brother  to  his  back  ; 

Steal  thro'   the  winnock  frae  a  whore,       window  from 
But  point  the  rake  that  taks  the  door  ;  enters  by 

Be  to  the  poor  like  oiiie   wJmnstane^        anywhinstone 
And  hand  their  noses  to  the  griinstane ;     grindstone 
Ply  ev'ry  art  o'  legal  thieving  ; 
No  matter — stick  to  sound  believing. 

Learn  three-mile  pray'rs,  an'  half-mile  graces, 
Wi'  weel-spread  looves^  an'  lang,  wry  faces  ;   palms 
Grunt  up  a  solemn,  lengthen' d  groan, 
And  damn  a'  parties  but  your  own  ;  au 

I'll  warrant  then,  ye' re  nae  deceiver, 
A  steady,  sturdy,  staunch  believer, 

O  ye  wha  leave  the  springs  o'   Calvin, 
For  gumlie  dubs  of  your  ain  delvin  !  muddy  pools 

Ye  sons  of  Heresy  and  Error, 
Ye' 11  some  day  squeel  in  quaking   terror. 
When  Vengeance  draws  the  sword  in  wrath. 
And  in  the  fire  throws  the  sheath  ; 


.^T.    28.] 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


When  Ruin,  with  his  sweeping  besom, 
Just  frets  till  Heav'n  commission  gies  him  ; 
While  o'er  the  harp  pale  Misery  moans, 
And  strikes  the  ever-deep' ning  tones. 
Still  louder  shrieks,  and  heavier  groans  1 


309 


Your  pardon,  sir,  for  this  digression  : 
I  maist  forgat  my  Dedication  ; 
But  when  divinity  comes  'cross  me, 
My  readers  still  are  sure  to  lose  me. 


almost 


So,  sir,  you  see  'twas  nae  daft  vapor  ; 
But  I  maturely  thought  it  proper. 
When  a'  my  works  L  did  review. 
To  dedicate  them,  sir,  to  you  : 
Because  (ye  need  na  tak^  it  ill), 
I  thought  them  something  like  yoursel. 


not  take 


Then  patronize  them  wi'  your  favor, 

And  your  petitioner  shall  ever 

I  had  amaist  said,  ever  pray,  almost 

But  that's  a  word  I  need  na  say  ; 

For  prayin,   I  hae  little  skill  o't, 

I'm  baith  dcad-szvccr,  an'  wretched  ill  ^7 -much averse. 

'  '  at  it  J 

But  I'se  repeat  each  poor  man's  pray'r. 

That  kens  or  hears  about  you,  sir knows 


"  May  ne'er  Misfortune's  gowling  bark, 
Howl  thro'   the  dwelling  o'  the  clerk  ! 
May  ne'er  his  gen'rous,   honest  heart, 
For  that  same  gen'rous  spirit  smart  ! 
May  Kennedy's  far-honor'd  name* 
I^ang  beet  his  hymeneal  flame. 


fan 


*Mr.  Hamilton's  wife  belonged  to   The   Kennedys,  an  ancient  and  influential 
bmily  in  Carrick. 


310  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

Till  Hamilton's,  at  least  a  dizzen^  dozeq 

Are  frae  their  nuptial  labors  risen  : 

Five  bonie  lasses  round  their  table, 

And  sev'n  braw  fellows,  stout  an'  able, 

To  serve  their  king  an'  country  weel, 

By  word,  or  pen,  or  pointed  steel  ! 

May  health  and  peace,  with  mutual  rays, 

Shine  on  the  ev'ning  o'  his  days; 

Till  his  wee,  curlie  John's  ier-oe^  greatgrandchild 

When  ebbing  life  nae  mair  shall  flow,  no 

The  last,  sad,  mournful  rites  bestow  ! " 


I  will  not  wind  a  lang  conclusion, 
With  complimentary  effusion  ; 
But,  whilst  your  wishes  and  endeavors 
Are  blest  with  Fortune's  smiles  and  favors, 
I  am,  dear  sir,  with  zeal  most  fervent, 
Your  much  indebted,  humble  servant. 


But  if  (which  Pow'rs  above  prevent) 
That  iron-hearted  carl^  Want,  feUow 

Attended,  in  his  grim  advances, 
By  sad  mistakes,  and  black  mischances. 
While  hopes,  and  joys,  and  pleasures  fly  him, 
Make  you  as  poor  a  dog  as  I  am. 
Your  '  humble  servant '  then  no  more  ; 
For  who  would  humbly  serve  the  poor? 
But,  by  a  poor  man's  hopes  in  Heav'n  ! 
While  recollection's  pow'r  is  giv'n — 
If,  in  the  vale  of  humble  life, 
The  victim  sad  of  fortune's  strife, 
I,  thro'  the  tender-gushing  tear, 
Should  recognise  my  master  dear; 
If  friendless,  low,  we  meet  together, 
Then,  sir,  your  hand — my  friend  and  brother ! 


JSX.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  311 

[In  all  likelihood,  this  characteristic  efTusion  was  composed  with 
a  view  to  its  occupying  a  place  in  front  of  the  author's  first  pub- 
lication ;  but  probably  its  freedom  of  sentiment  and  lack  of  rever- 
ence for  matters  orthodox  would  stagger  its  cautious  and  circumspect 
typographer.  It  was  accordingly  slipped  into  the  book  near  the 
close,  in  fellowship  with  "The  Louse,"  and  some  subjects  less 
dainty  in  character  than  those  first  presented  to  the  reader.  This 
"dedication"  is  nevertheless  esteemed  one  of  the  best  poems  in 
the  volume ;  and  none  of  the  author's  lines  are  more  frequently 
on  the  lips  of  his  readers  than  some  of  its  pithy  sentences. 
Indeed,  the  bard's  correspondence  testifies  that  he  was  himself  fond 
of  quoting  its  couplets  occasionally.  The  gentleman  to  whom  it 
is  addressed  was,  in  every  respect,  a  man  after  Burns'  own  heart ; 
and  this  fact  is  very  quaintly  told  in  the  passage  where  he  explains 
his  reason  for  dedicating  the  poems  to  Hamilton : — 

"  Because — ye  needna  tak  it  ill — 
I  thought  them  something  like  yoursel." 

According  to  Mr.  Lockhart,  "Hamilton's  family,  though  pro- 
fessedly adhering  to  the  Presbyterian  Establishment,  had  always 
Iain  under  a  strong  suspicion  of  Episcopalianism.  Gavin's  grand- 
father had  been  curate  of  Kirkoswald  in  the  troul)lous  times  that 
preceded  the  Revolution,  and  incurred  popular  hatred  in  conse- 
quence of  being  supposed  to  have  been  instrumental  in  bringing 
a  thousand  of  the  'Highland  host'  into  that  region  in  1677."  We 
rather  suspect  this  was  the  great-grandfather  of  the  poet's  friend, 
named  Claud,  who  died  in  1699,  and  whose  sou  John  was  a  writer 
in  Edinburgh. 

Gavin's  father  was  also  a  writer  in  Mauchline,  inhabiting  the  old 
castellated  mansion  which  still  exists  near  the  church.  Cromck 
mentions  that  the  Rev.  William  Auld  had  quarrelled  with  the  senior 
Hamilton,  and  sought  every  occasion  of  revenging  himself  on  tlie 
son.  Be  that  as  it  may,  our  notes  at  pp.  95  and  97  sufficiently 
narrate  the  annoyances  to  which  Gavin  was  subjected  by  the  Kirk 
Session ;  and  the  author's  text  there,  and  elsewhere,  shews  the 
measure  of  the  reprisal  that  followed. 

One  of  the  existing  representatives  of  Mr.  Hamilton  is  Major 
Wallace  Adair,  husband  of  a  granddaughter  of  Gavin,  and  himself  a 
grandson  of  Charlotte  Hamilton,  sister  of  the  subject  of  the  text. 

Cromek  mentions  that  he  had  seen  a  copy  of  this  poem,  in 
which  one  of  Hamilton's  great  sins,  in  the  eyes  of  Daddy  Auld 
and  Holy  Willie,  is  thus  neatly  introduced  : 

lie  sometimes  pallops  on  a  Sunday, 

An'  pricks  his  beast  as  it  were  Monday.) 


312  POEMS   AND  SONGS.  [1786. 


VERSIFIED    NOTE    to    Dr.    MACKENZIE, 
MAUCHUNEo 

(Hogg  and  Motherwei^l,  1835.) 

Friday  first's  the  day  appointed 
By  the  Right  Worshipful  anointed, 

To  hold  our  grand  procession  ; 
To  get  a  blad  o'  Johnie's  morals,  piece 

And  taste  a  swatch  o\  Hanson's  barrels       sample 

I'  the  way  of  our  profession.  ^ 
The  Master  and  the  Brotherhood 
Would  a'  be  glad  to  see  you  ; 
For  me  I  would  be  mair  than  proud 

To  share  the  mercies  wi'  you.  good  things 

If  Death,  then,  wi'  skaith^  then,  harm 

Some  mortal  heart  is  hechtin^        threatening 

Inform  him,  and  storm  him,  buuy 

That  Saturday  you'll  fecht  him.  fight 

Robert  Burns. 

Mossgiel,  An.  M.  5790. 

[The  masonic  date  appended  to  the  foregoing  rhyme,  signifies 
A.  D.  1786.  Our  notes  hitherto,  (except  in  connection  with  the 
bacchanalian  song  given  at  page  37,)  have  had  no  occasion  to 
refer  to  the  poet's  passion  for  Free-masonry.  He  had,  in  July 
1784,  been  raised  to  the  position  of  Depute  Master  of  St.  James' 
Lodge,  Tarbolton,  from  which  period  down  to  May  1788,  he  con- 
tinued frequently  to  sign  the  minutes  in  that  capacity.  On  24th 
June  1786,  being  St.  John's  Day,  a  grand  procession  of  the  lodge 
took  place  by  previous  arrangement,  and  the  lines  forming  the 
text  shew  the  style  in  which  he  invited  his  brother-mason.  Dr. 
Mackenzie,  to  be  present  on  the  occasion.  The  Lodge  held  its 
meetings  in  a  back-room  of  the  principal  inn  of  the  village  kept 
by  a  person  named  Manson.  It  is  not  very  clear  who  was  the 
"Johnie"  thus  expected  to  dilate  on  morals:  Professor  Walker 
tells  us  it  was  John  Mackenzie  himself,  whose  favorite  topic  was 
"the  origin  of  Morals."] 


^T.  28,]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  313 


THE  FAREWELL. 

TO  THE  BRETHREN  OF  ST.   JAMES'S   LODGE,    TARBOLTON. 

Tune. — "Goodnight,  and  joy  be  wi'  you  a'."" 

(Kilmarnock  Ed.,   1786.) 

Adieu  !  a  heart-warm,  fond  adieu  ; 

Dear  brothers  of  the  mystic  Tye  ! 
Ye  favored,   ye  enlighten' d  few, 

Companions  of  my  social  joy  ; 
Tho'   I  to  foreign  lands  must  hie. 

Pursuing  Fortune's  slidd''ry  bd'  ;    slippery  bau 
With  melting  heart,  and  brimful  eye, 

I'll  mind  you  still,  tho'  far  awa. 


Oft  have  I  met  your  social  band. 

And  spent  the  cheerful,  festive  night : 
Oft,  honor' d  with  supreme  command. 

Presided  o'er  the  sons  of  light  : 
And  by  that  hieroglyphic  bright. 

Which  none  but  craftsmen  ever  saw  ! 
Strong  Meni'ry  on  my  heart  shall  write 

Those  happy  scenes,  when  far  awa. 


May  Freedom,   Harmony,  and  Love, 

Unite  you  in  the  grand  design, 
Beneath  th'   Omniscient  Eye  above — 

The  glorious  Architect  Divine, 
That  you  may  keep  th'  unerring  line, 

vStill  rising  by  the  plummet's  law, 
Till  OrdivR  bright  completely  shine. 

Shall  be  my  pray'r  when  far  awa 


314  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

And  YOU,  farewell  !  whose  merits  claim 

Justly  that  highest  badge  to  wear  : 
Heav'n  bless  your  honor' d,  noble  name, 

To  Masonry  and  Scotia  dear  ! 
A  last  request  permit  me  here,- 

When  yearly  ye  assemble  a', 
One  round,   I  ask  it  with  a     tear, 

To  him,  THE  Bard  that's  far  awa. 


[An  examination  of  the  minute-book  of  the  lodge  shews  that 
on  23d  June  1786,  the  poet  was  present  at  a  meeting  preparatory 
to  the  grand  procession  referred  to  in  the  last  piece.  No  other 
lodge-meeting  was  held  till  the  29th  of  July,  ^which  Burns  also 
attended ;  and  as  the  present  song  formed  part  of  the  volume 
which  was  put  into  the  hands  of  the  public  on  the  last  day  of 
that  month,  we  may  assume  that  the  occasion  on  which  the  poet 
repeated  or  sang  the  verses  to  the  brethren  was  on  the  23d  or 
24th  of  June.  He  was  then  full  of  the  intention  of  sailing  before 
the  close  of  August ;  for  we  find  him  writing  to  a  friend  on  30th 
July:- 

"My  hour  is  now  come:  you  and  I  shall  never  meet  in  Britain 
more.  I  have  orders,  within  three  weeks  at  furthest,  to  repair 
aboard  the  Nancy,  Captain  Smith,  from  Clyde  to  Jamaica." 

It  would  appear  that  Captain  James  Montgomery  (a  younger 
brother  of  Col.  Hugh  Montgomery  of  Coilsfield)  was,  about  this 
period.  Grandmaster  of  St.  James  Lodge ;  and  Chambers  tells  us 
that  the  first  four  lines  of  the  closing  stanza  of  this  song  refer  to 
him.  On  the  other  hand,  a  little  work  of  some  pretensions,  called 
"A  winter  with  Robert  Burns,"  asserts  that  the  reference  is  to 
William  Wallace  "of  the  Tarbolton  St.  David's,"  Sheriflf  of  the 
County  of  Ayr — a  name  "to  masonry  and  Scotia  dear."  A  note 
in  the  "Aldine"  edition  tells  us  that  this  half-stanza  refers  to 
Sir  John  Whitefoord.] 


je.r.  28.]  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  315 


ON  A  SCOTCH  BARD, 

GONE  TO  THE  WEST  INDIES. 
(KlI^MARNOCK   Ed.,    1786.) 

A'  ye  wha  live  by  sowps  o'  drink,  sups 

A'  ye  wlia  live  by  crambo-clink^  versifying 

A'  ye  wha  live  and  never  think, 

Come,  mourn  wi'  me  \ 
Our  billie's  gien  us  a'  a  jink,* 

An'  owre  the  sea  !  over 

lyament  him  a'  ye  rantin  core^  corps 

Wha  dearly  like  a  random-splore  /      occasional  frolic 
Nae  mair  he'll  join  the  merry  roar. 

In  social  key  ; 
For  now  he's  tae7i  anither  shore,  taken 

An'  owre  the  sea ! 

The  bonie  lasses  weel  may  wiss  him,  wish 

And  in  their  dear  petitions  place  him  : 
The  widows,  wives,  an'  a'  may  bless  him 

Wi'  tearfu'  e'e ;        ^      weiiiwoti 
For  weel  I  mat  they'll  sairly  miss  him       sorciy' 

That's  owre  the  sea! 

O  Fortune, .  they  hae  room  to  grumble  ! 
Hadst  thou  taen  aff  some  drowsy  bujunilc^   t>iunderer 
Wha  can  do  nought  but  fyke  an'  fumble,    „omattcri 
'Twad  been  7tae  pica;    for  com-  )■ 

^  plaint    -• 

But  he  was  gleg  as  onie  wiimblc^        sharp     gimiet 
That's  owre  the  sea  ! 


•  Our  brother  has  given  us  all  the  slip.— J.  H, 


816  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

Auld,  can  tie  Kyle*  may  ivcepers  w^arj'^^J^'^Jl 
An'  stain  them  wi'   the  saiit^  saut  tear  :  salt 

'Twill  mak  her  poor  auld  heart,  I  fear, 

In  flinders  fiee  :  fragments  fly 

He  was  her  Laureat  ?nony  a  year,  many 

That's  owre  the  sea  \ 

He  saw  Misfortune's  cauld  nor- west 

Lang  mustering  up  a  bitter  blast  ; 

K  jillet\  brak  his  heart  at  last,  im 

111  may  she  be  ! 
So,  took  a  berth  afore  the  mast. 

An'  owre  the  sea. 

To  tremble  under  Fortune's  cmnmock^  rod 

On   scarce    a   belly fu'   O'   drunimock^  meal  and  cold  water 

Wi'  his  proud,  independent  stomach, 

Could  ill  agree  ; 
So,  roz£/V  his  hurdies  in  a  hammock,  roiled  posteriors 

An'  owre  the  sea. 

He  ne'er  vtasgien  to  great  misguidin^  given  unthrift 
Yet  coin  his  potiches  wad  na  bide  in  ;  pockets  stay 
Wi'  him  it  ne'er  was  under  hidin  ; 

He  dealt  it  free  : 
The  Muse  was  a'  that  he  took  pride  in, 

That's  owre  the  sea. 

Jamaica  bodies,   use  him  weel. 

An'  hap  him  in  a  cozie  biel :        cover      snug  shelter 

Ye' 11  find  him  ay  a  dainty  chiel^  feuow 

An'  foil  o'  glee  :  fuii 

He  wad  na  wrang' d  the   vera    deil,';°^'^^g°°'^^""} 

That's  owre  the  sea. 

•See  p.  203.  f  Jean  Armour. 


^ET.  28.]        '  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  317 

Fareweel,  my  rliyme-composing  billie !        brother 
Your  native  soil  was  right  ill-ivillie ;  spiteful 

But  may  ye  flourish  like  a  lily, 

Now  bonilie  ! 
I'll  toast  you  iu  my  hindmost  gillie^  giii  of  whisky 

Tho'  owre  the  sea  ! 


[This  playful  ode  shines  out  cheerfully  among  the  poet's  more 
pathetic  leave-takings  of  the  period.  He  puts  it  into  the  mouth 
of  an  imaginary  "rhyme-composing  brother;"  but  not  one  of  the 
tribe,  except  the  bard  of  Kyle  himself,  could  have  produced  such 
an  original  and  happy  strain.  His  own  picture  is  painted  to  the 
life,  in  all  his  "ranting,  roving  Robin-hood;"  and  yet,  amid  his 
rollicking,  he  throws  in  a  touch  of  the  true  pathetic,  just  to  show 
his  reader  how 

"  Chords  that  vibrate  sweetest  pleasure, 
Thrill  the  deepest  notes  of  woe." 

He  who,  only  a   few  months  before,  had  sung  so  despairingly  in 
"The  Lament,"  and  kindred  effusions,  concerning 

"A  faithless  woman's  broken  vow," 

here    reverts    to    the    same    theme    in    a  strain   of  smothered  bit- 
terness : — 

"  He  saw  Misfortune's  cauld  nor-west 
Xang  mustering  up  a  bitter  blast ; 
A  jillet  brak  his  heart  at  last, 

111  may  she  be  ! 
So,  took  a  birth  afore  the  mast, 

An'  owre  the  sea."] 


SONG— FAREWELL  TO   ELIZA. 

Tunc — "  Gilderoy." 
(Kilmarnock   Ed.,    17S6.) 

From  thee,   Eliza,   I  must  go, 
And  from  my  native  shore  ; 

The  cruel  fates  between  us  throw 
A  boundless  ocean's  roar  : 


318  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [178& 

But  boundless  oceans,  roaring  widcj 

Between  my  love  and  me, 
They  never,  never  can  divide 

My  heart  and  soul  from  thee. 

Farewell,  farewell,   Eliza  dear, 

The  maid  that  I  adore  ! 
A  boding  voice  is  in  mine  ear, 

We  part  to  meet  no  more ! 
But  the  latest  throb  that  leaves  my  heart, 

While  Death  stands  victor  by, — 
That  throb,   Eliza,  is  thy  part, 

And  thine  that  latest  sigh  !  ^ 


[In  the  Ode  on  a  Scotch  Bard,  the  author  took  a  general  fare- 
well of  the  "  bonie  lasses  —  widows,  wives  an'  a',"  and  here  he 
singles  out  one  in  particular,  from  among  "the  belles  of  Mauch- 
line,"  in  whom  he  seems  to  have  a  more  special  interest.  The 
language  is  almost  identical  with  that  in  which  he  addressed  Jean 
Armour  shortly  before,  "Tho'  cruel  fate,"  &c.  (see  p.  123).  That 
he  really  had  some  of  "his  random  iits  o'  daffin  "  with  a  young 
woman  bearing  this  Christian  name,  is  evident  from  a  few  words 
that  dropped  from  him  after  his  "eclatant  return"  from  Edinburgh 
to  Mauchline. 

On  nth  June  1787,  in  a  letter  to  his  friend  James  Smith,  then 
at  Linlithgow,  he  says  —  "Your  mother,  sister,  and  brother;  my 
quondam  Eliza,  &c.,  are  all  well."  Chambers,  from  a  variety  of 
circumstances,  came  to  the  conclusion  that  this  "Eliza"  was  the 
"braw  Miss  Betty"  of  the  "six  proper  young  belles,"  so  distin- 
guished by  the  poet  in  his  canzonette  given  at  page  73.  She  was 
sister  to  Miss  Helen  Miller,  the  wife  of  Dr.  Mackenzie,  and  died 
shortly  after  being  married  to  a  Mr.  Templeton.] 


^.  28.J  POEMS  AND  SONGS,  31& 


A  BARD'S  EPITAPH. 

(Kilmarnock  Ed.,  1786.) 

Is  there  a  whim-inspired  fool, 

Owre  fast  for  thought,  owre  hot  for  nile,        too 

Owre  Mate  to  seek,  owre  proud  to  siiool^   crouch  } 

Let  him  draw  near  ; 
And  owre  this  grassy  heap  sing  dool^      lamentations 

And  drap  a  tear. 

Is  there  a  bard  of  rustic  song, 

Who,  noteless,  steals  the  crowds  among, 

That  weekly  this  arena  throng, 

O,  pass  not  by ! 
But,  with  a  frater-feeling  strong, 

Here,  heave  a  sigh. 

Is  there  a  man,  whose  judgment  clear 
Can  others  teach  the  course  to  steer, 
Yet  runs,  himself,  life's  mad  career, 

Wild  as  the  wave. 
Here  pause — and,  thro'  the  starting  tt-dl, 

Survey  this  grave. 

The  poor  inhabitant  below 

Was  quick  to  learn  and  wi^se  to  know, 

And  keenly  felt  the  frie*jdly  glow, 

And  softer  flame; 
But  thoughtless  follies  laid  him  low, 

And  stain' d  his  name! 

Reader,  attenA  *  v/hether  thy  soul 
Soars  fanc/'s  flights  beyond  the  pole, 


320  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

Or  darkling  grubs  this  earthly  holej 
In  low  pursuit  ; 

Know,  prudent,  cautious,  self-control 
Is  wisdom's  rooto 


[The  poet's  labors  to  feed  the  Kilmarnock  press  of  John  Wilson 
with  sufficient  materials  to  make  up  a  volume  of  moderate  thick- 
ness were  drawing  to  a  close  ;  and,  having  bade  farewell  to  "friends 
and  foes,"  he  had  only  now  to  compose  his  own  Epitaph.  The 
Elegy  on  himself,  given  at  page  128  supra,  did  not  altogether 
satisfy  him  ;  so  he  tasked  his  muse  to  the  utmost,  and  produced 
in  the  text,  what,  with  common  consent,  is  allowed  to  be  equally 
truthful,  pathetic,  and  sublime. 

In  some  extempore  verses,  dashed  off  at  this  period,  he  speaks 
thus  lightly  of  his  probable  death  as  the  result  of  his  intended 
expatriation : — 

And  now  I  must  mount  on  the  wave, 

My  voyage  perhaps  there  is  death  in; 
But  what  of  a  watery  grave  ? 

The  drowning  a  poet  is  naethingQ 


EPITAPH  FOR  ROBERT  AIKEN,  ESQ. 

(Kilmarnock  Ed.,  1786.) 

Know  thou,  O  stranger  to  the  fame 
Of  this  much  lov'd,  much  honored  name ! 
(Foi  none  that  knew  him  need  be  told) 
A  warmer  heart  death  ne'er  made  cold. 


[The  above  is  a  kindly  compliment  to  his  warm  friend  Mr. 
Aiken — the  "orator  Bob"  of  the  ecclesiastical  courts,  in  their 
proceedings  against  Gavin  Hamilton,  and  against  Dr.  M'Gill.  To 
this  gentleman,  who  was  a  life-long  friend  of  the  bard  from  the 
date  of  their  first  acquaintance,  the  "Cottar's  Saturday  Night"  is 
dedicated.    He  survived  the  poet,  till  24th  March  1807.3 


aer.  28.]         '  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  321 

EPITAPH  FOR  GAVIN  HAMILTON,  ESQ. 

(KlI^MARNOCK  Ed.,   1786.) 

The  poor  man  weeps — here  Gavin  sleeps, 
Whom  canting  wretches  blam'd  ; 

But  with  such  as  he,  where'er  he  be. 
May  I  be  sav'd  or  d — d  ! 

[Here  is  a  characteristic  turn  of  the  poet's  pen  in  favor  of  his 
honest,  but  greatly  maligned,  friend  and  neighbor,  Mr.  Hamilton, 
of  whom  we  have  already  had  occasion  to  say  a  good  deal.  He 
survived  till  8th  Feb.  1805,  dying  at  the  comparatively  early  age 
of  fifty-two.  A  year  after  his  death,  his  daughter  Wilhelmina 
(referred  to  in  one  of  the  poet's  letters)  married  the  Rev.  John 
Tod,  a  successor  of  Daddy  Auld  as  parish  minister  of  Mauchline. 
Mr.  Tod  died  in  1844,  and  his  wife  survived  till  1858,  leaving 
several  descendants.] 


EPITAPH  ON  *'WKE  JOHNIE.*' 

(KiivMARNOCK  Ed.,  17S6.) 
Hie  facet  wee  Johnie. 

Whoe'er  thou  art,  O  reader,  know 
That  Death  has  murder' d  Johnie  ; 

An'  here  his  body  lies  fti'  low  ; 
For  saul  he  ne'er  had  ony. 

[From  the  day  that  Burns  came  before  the  world  as  an  author 
till  the  day  of  his  death,  and  seventy  years  beyond  that  event, 
the  poet's  readers  had  a  tacit  understanding  that  these  four  lines 
had  been  waggishly  inserted  in  the  last  sheet  of  his  book,  as  a 
satire — not  a  very  wicked  one — on  his  printer.  How  that  under- 
standing arose  does  not  appear.  The  decent  little  typographer, 
however,  (who  was  really  a  master  of  his  own  art,  althoujjh,  in 
the  eyes  of  genius,  destitute  of  the  "divine  afflatus"),  was  not  a 
whit  the  worse  of  setting  up  in  type  his  own  "Hie  jacet."  He 
L  U 


322  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  [1786. 

prospered  in  the  world,  and  died  at  Ayr  on  6tli  May  1821.  By  his 
own  instructions,  his  body  was  removed  to  his  favorite  Kilmar- 
nock, where  his  true  "Hie  jacet"  may  be  read  in  the  High  Church 
burial  ground.  He  bequeathed,  under  very  peculiar  restrictions,  a 
small  mortification  for  educational  purposes,  to  his  native  town, 
of  which  he  was  for  sometime  a  magistrate.] 


THE  LASS   O'    BALLOCHMYIvE. 

(CURRIE   1800.) 

Tune.— " 'Ettrick  Banks."  ^ 

*TwAS  even — the  dewy  fields  were  green, 

On  every  blade  the  pearls  hang  ; 
The  zephyr  wanton' d  ronnd  the  bean, 

And  bore  its  fragrant  sweets  alang : 
In  ev'ry  glen  the  mavis  sang, 

All  nature  list'ning  seem'd  the  while, 
Except  where  greenwood  echoes  rang, 

Amang  the  braes  o'  Ballochmyle. 


With  careless  step  I  onward  stray' d, 

My  heart  rejoic'd  in  nature's  joy, 
When,  musing  in  a  lonely  glade, 

A  maiden  fair  I  chanc'd  to  spy  : 
Her  look  was  like  the  morning's  eye, 

Her  air  like  nature's  vernal  smile ; 
Perfection  whisper' d,  passing  by, 

'^Behold  the  lass  o'  Ballochmyle!'* 


Fair  is  the  mom  in  flowery  May, 

And  sweet  is  night  in  autumn  mild ; 

When  roving  thro'  the  garden  gay, 
Ol  wand' ring  in  the  lonely  wild : 


'UAlJddA/.'d    U   dt</.a   -Uii 


m 


Arna. 


May, 
THE  LASS  O'  BALLOCHMYLE:' 


«T.  28.]  POEMS  AND   SONGS.  323 

But  woman,  nature's  darling  child  ! 

There  all  her  charms  she  does  compile  ; 
Even  there  her  other  works  are  foil'd 

By  the  bonie  lass  o'   Ballochmyle. 

O  had  she  been  a  country  maid, 

And  I  the  happy  country  swain, 
Tho'  shelter' d  in  the  lowest  shed 

That  ever  rose  on  Scotland's  plain ! 
Thro'  weary  winter's  wind  and  rain, 

With  joy,  with  rapture,  I  would  toil ; 
And  nightly  to  my  bosom  strain 

The  bonie  lass  o'  Ballochmyle. 

Then  pride  might  climb  the  slipp'ry  steep, 

Where  fame  and  honors  lofty  shine  ; 
And  thirst  of  gold  might  tempt  the  deep. 

Or  downward  seek  the  Indian  mine : 
Give  me  the  cot  below  the  pine. 

To  tend  the  flocks  or  till  the  soil ; 
And  ev'ry  day  have  joys  divine 

With  the  bonie  lass  o'  Ballochmyle. 


[According  to  the  poet's  own  information,  on  a  lovely  evening 
in  July  1786,  before  the  summer's  heat  had  browned  the  vernal 
glory  of  the  season,  and  while  the  fragrant  blossom  yet  lingered 
on  the  hawthorn,  the  muse  suggested  this  famous  lyric.  His  cor- 
recting of  the  press,  involving  many  a  journey  to  and  from 
Kilmarnock,  was  then  accomplished ;  and  while  waiting,  no  doubt 
with  some  anxiety,  for  publication  day,  he  indulged  himself  with 
one  of  his  wonted  strolls  on  the  banks  of  Ayr  at  Ballochmyle.  In 
these  romantic  retreats,  while  his  "heart  rejoiced  in  nature's  joy," 
fresh  animation  was  added  to  the  scene  by  the  unexpected  approach 
of  Miss  Williamina  Alexander,  the  sister  of  the  new  proprietor 
of  that  estate ;  and  although  she  only  crossed  his  path  like  a 
vision,  the  above  verses  were  the  result  of  that  incident. 

In  a  warmly-composed  letter,  he  enclosed  the  song  to  the  lady ; 
referring  with  much  animation  to  the  occasion  which  gave  it  birth. 
That  communication   bears  date  the  18th  of  November  1786,  when 


324 


POEMS  AND  SONGS. 


[1786. 


the  success  of  his  first  publication  had  encouraged  him  to  drop  his 
emigration  scheme,  and  to  resolve  on  a  second  edition  to  be  pub- 
lished in  Edinburgh,  His  professed  object  in  addressing  the  lady 
was  to  obtain  her  consent  to  the  printing  of  the  song  in  the  new 
edition.  It  would  appear,  however,  that  Miss  Alexander  judged  it 
prudent  not  to  reply  to  the  poet's  request.  But  a  day  at  length 
arrived  when  she  was  proud  to  exhibit  the  letter  and  the  poem 
together  in  a  glass  case.  A  few  years  ago,  the  writer  of  this  note 
had  the  pleasure  of  examining  that  interesting  production,  which 
Qow  hangs  on  the  wall  of  the  "  spence "  or  back-parlor  of  the 
farm  of  Mossgiel,  the  place  selected  about  twenty  years  ago,  by 
the  relatives  of   the    heroine   of   the    song,    as    the    fittest    for  its 


exhibition  to  "all  and  sundries."  The  hand-writing  is  more  care- 
ess  than  usual,  and  shews  occasionally  a  mis-spelled  word. 

Our  woodcut  of  the  interior  of  Mossgiel  farm-house  is  from  a 
Jrawing  by  Sir  Wm.  Allan,  kindly  lent  by  its  possessor,  W.  F. 
Watson,  Esq.,  Edinburgh. 

We  have  only  to  add  that  the  "Bonie  Lass"  herself  died  un- 
married in  1843,  aged  88.  She  must  thus  have  been  31  years 
old  in  1786.] 


^T.  28.J    ^       *  POEMS  AND  SONGS.  325 


MOTTO  PREFIXED  TO  THE  AUTHOR'S  FIRST 
PUBLICATION. 

(KlI,MARNOCK   Ed.,    1786.) 

The  simple  Bard,  unbroke  by  rules  of  art, 
He  pours  the  wild  effusions  of  the  heart ; 
And  if  inspir'd,  'tis  Nature's  pow'rs  inspire  ; 
Her's  all  the  melting  thrill,  and  her's  the   kindling 
fire. 


[The  famous  Kilmarnock  volume  of  Bums,  with  the  above  motto, 
(evidently  his  own  composition),  on  its  title-page,  was  ready  for 
distribution  on  the  same  day  (30th  July  1786)  on  which  he  penned 
an  excited  letter  to  his  friend  Richmond  in  Edinburgh,  from 
"Old  Rome  Forest,"  near  Kilmarnock.  The  father  of  Jean  Armour, 
having  learned  that  the  poet  had  executed  a  formal  conveyance 
of  his  personal  effects,  including  the  copyright  of  his  poems,  and 
the  profits  to  arise  from  their  sale,  in  favor  of  his  brother  Gilbert, 
for  the  up-bringing  of  his  "dear-bought  Bess,"  obtained  a  legal 
warrant  to  apprehend  Burns  till  he  should  find  security  to  meet 
the  prospective  alimentary  claim  of  his  daughter  Jean.  The  poet, 
through  some  secret  channel,  heard  of  this  ;  and  he  thus  confided 
himself  to  Richmond: — "I  am  wandering  from  one  friend's  house 
to  another,  and,  like  a  true  son  of  the  Gospel,  have  nowhere  to 
lay  my  head.  I  know  you  will  pour  an  execration  on  her  head  ; 
but  spare  the  poor,  ill-advised  girl,  for  my  sake.  I  write  in  a 
moment  of  rage,  reflecting  on  my  miserable  situation  —  exiled, 
abandoned,  forlorn."  We  have  no  letters  of  Burns  dated  from 
home  during  the  following  month  of  August,  which  seems  to  have 
been  spent  in  secret  journeys  from  one  locality  to  another,  gather- 
ing the  fruits  of  his  recent  publication.] 


SALE   OF  THE   KILMARNOCK   EDITION. 

The  original  of  the  account  of  John  Wilson  of  Kil- 
marnock for  the  printing  of  Burns' s  Poems,  with  a 
list  of  subscribers,  or  rather  of  persons  to  whom  Wilson 
gave  out  copies  on  account  of  the  author,  is  in  posses- 
sion of  Robert  Cole,  Esq.,  of  52  Upper  Norton  Place, 
London,     Wilson's  account  is  as  follows  : — 

Mr.  Robert  Burns, 

To  John  Wixson,  Dr. 
£     s.    d. 

Aug.  28,  1786. — Printing  15  sheets  at  195 14     5     o 

19  Reams  13  quires  paper  at  17^.  .      16     4      o 

Carriage  of  the  paper o      8      9 

Stitching  612  copies  in  blue  papfer 

at  \%d. 493 

«          ,  35    17     o 

Aug.  19. — By  cash 6     3     o 

••     28.—  "      "       14    13     o 

By  70  copies 10    10     o 

31     6     o 

4    II      o 

By  9  copies i     7     o 

340 
Oct.  6tli. — By  cash  in  full 3     4     o 

Settled  the  above  account. 

Kilmarnock.  John  Wii^on. 

It  appears  that  Mr.  Wilson  had  here,  by  an  error 
in  his  arithmetic,  undercharged  the  poet  ten  shillings 
— the  second  item  in  the  account  being  properly  ;^i6, 
14.?.,  instead  of  ^16,  4^-. 

Six  hundred  copies,  at  35'.  each,  would  produce  ^90  ; 
and  if  there  were  no  more  to  be  deducted  from  that 
sum  than  the  expenses  of  paper,  print,  and  stitching, 
there  would  remain  upwards  of  ^54  as  profit.  The 
poet,  however,  speaks  of  realising  only  ^20  by  the 
speculation. 

326 


NOTE  BY  EDITORS. 

The  poetry  in  the  preceding  pages  comprises  all 
that  appeared  in  the  Kilmarnock  edition  of  Burns' 
Works,  as  well  as  many  pieces  written  anterior  to  the 
date  of  the  publication  of  that  volume  (August,  1786) 
but  not  appearing  therein.  Several  of  these  were  in- 
serted by  the  poet  himself  in  the  subsequent  Edin- 
burgh editions  ;  others  were  recovered  after  his  death 
by  Dr.  Currie,  Cromek,  and  subsequent  editors,  from 
the  Common-place  books  in  which  Burns  had  entered 
them  in  holograph,  or  from  friends  to  whom  he  had 
given  copies  of  them.  A  considerable  number  of  the 
songs  here  appearing,  though  all  composed  within  this 
period,  were  printed  for  the  first  time  in  Johnson's 
Museum,  the  first  volume  of  which  was  not  issued  till 
1788.  It  will  be  understood  then  that  all  the  poetical 
pieces  known  to  have  been  composed  before  Aug.  1786 
appear  in  this  volume,  but  none  of  later  date. 

We  now  proceed  to  give  the  chronologically  corres- 
ponding prose  matter,  premising  merely  that  the  his- 
torical portion  carries  us  back  to  a  date  considerably 
anterior  to  the  poet's  birth,  while  the  Autobiography 
was  not  written  till  August  1787.  With  this  last  ex- 
ception (accounted  for  hereafter),  all  the  poet's  prose 
compositions  (consisting  entirely  of  letters)  in  this  vol- 
ume are  of  date  not  later  than  the  appearance  of  the 
Kilmarnock  Edition. 


327 


rROSi:   WORKS. 


LIFE  AND  LETTERS  OF  ROBERT  BURNS. 


Tlllv    POKT'S   AUTOHIor.RAPHY. 

INTR(JDrCTORV. 

No  one  can  read  with  full  intclliq^cncc  the  prmhic- 
tions  of  a  writer  of  such  intense  indivichiality,  and  so 
sensitively  susceptible  of  impressions,  as  Burns,  who 
has  not  some  acquaintance  with  the  man  himself,  as 
well  as  with  his  life-histor}'.  His  works  are  really  a 
reflex  not  only  of  his  mental  constitution  and  the  occa- 
sions that  called  them  forth,  but  also  of  the  conditions 
under  which  each  of  them  was  produced.  Man  is 
larL^eK'  the  creature  of  his  surroundinj^s  and  to  know 
him  thorou«;hly  wc  nuisl  know  not  only  tlie  native 
character  of  his  mind — his  mental  idiosyncracy,  as  it 
is  called — but  also  the  circumstances  amid  which  he 
was  cradled  and  grew  up,  and  note  to  what  extent 
these  operated  to  mould  liis  character  and  affect  his 
modes  of  thouj^ht.  All  this  no  one  can  enable  us  to 
see  so  clearly  of  the  Bard  of  Scotland  as  Robert  Burns 
himself.  Xo  person  of  culture  and  refinement,  moving 
in  the  hii^her  walks  of  social  life,  can  realize  how  a 
poor,  half-educated  peasant  judges  and  feels — from  what 
point  of  view  he  looks  at  matters,  by  what  motives  he 
is  actuated,  and  what  calls  forth  his  admiration,  indig- 
328 


1\1A1»    OF  THE 

.     AT  THE  CLOSe  OF  LAST  CCnTURY. 
SPECIALLY  DESIGNED  TO  ACCOMPANY  THE  COMPLETE.  ED  IT  ION  OF  BURNS. 


Britith  Miles. 


-•     '  INTRODUCTORY.  329 

nation  or  scorn — unless   lie   get  that   peasant  to  speak 
out  openly  and  frankly  for  himself. 

It  is  under  this  conviction  that  we  introduce  thus 
early  in  this  edition  of  the  works  of  Burns,  his  Auto- 
biography as  communicated  by  him  in  a  letter  to  Dr. 
Moore,  written  in  the  summer  recess  of  1787,  betwixt 
the  poet's  first  and  second  sojourn  in  the  Scottish  capi- 
tal, thus  giving  the  important  document  chronological 
precedence  over  some  of  his  earlier  writings.  It  would 
be  manifestly  unjust  to  subject  a  communication  not 
designed  for  the  public  to  the  tests  of  rigid  criticism. 
We  are  not  to  look  in  it  for  either  studied  elegance 
of  expression  or  complete  correctness  of  composition. 
But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  displays  to  us,  all  the  more 
truthfully,  the  man  himself,  portrayed  with  all  his 
native  vigor  and  all  his  frank  open-hearted  sincerity. 
In  this  letter,  written  in  the  confidence  of  private 
friendship,  he  seems  to  have  forgotten  his  own  maxim  : 

"  But  aye  keep  something  to  yoursel'  ye  scarcely  tell  to  ony  "— 

The  original  manuscript  of  the  autobiography — that, 
namely,  forwarded  to  Dr.  Moore — is  now  preserved  in 
the  British  Museum.*  The  author  had  retained  a 
verbatim  copy,  perusal  of  which  he  granted  to  the 
Duchess  of  Athole,  to  ' '  Clarinda ' '  and  others.  This, 
in  passing  through  so  many  hands,  got  into  a  tattered 
condition,  and  the  poet  caused  it  to  be  transcribed  by 
an  amanuensis  into  one  of  two  MS.  volumes  of  his 
then  unpublished  writings  collected  for  and  presented 
to  his  friend  and"  neighbor,  Robert  Riddell  of  Glen- 
riddell. 

That  copy  was  revised  and  corrected  by  Burns  him- 
self, and  is  now  preserved  in  the  Library  of  the 
Athenseum  Club,  Liverpool.     A  verbatim  transcript  of 


*Bib.  Eg.  1660.— Purchased  at  Mr.  P.  Cunningham's  sale  (Sotheby's),   Feb.  26, 
1855,  lot  145. 


330  INTRODUCTORY. 

it  has  been  compared  with  the  original  in  the  British 
Museum  and  fonnd  to  correspond  exactly.  In  the  fol- 
lowing text  a  complete  and  accurate  reproduction  of 
this  important  document  is  placed  before  the  reader, 
and  Dr.  Currie's  divergences  from  the  original,  as  well 
as  his  omissions,  will  be  apparent  to  any  one  who 
closely  compares  the  version  appearing  in  his  edition 
with  this  now  submitted. 

By  aid  of  the  valuable  "Notes  on  his  Name  and 
Family"  privately  printed  by  the  late  Dr.  James 
Burnes,  Physician  General  of  the  Bombay  Army,  and 
a  descendant  from  the  same  ancestral  stock  as  the 
poet,  we  record  some  genealogical  details  which  con- 
tribute to  throw  light  on  the  poet's  family  allusions 
as  well  as  to  account  for  the  strong  Jacobitical  bias 
which  shows  itself  occasionally  in  his  earlier  productions. 

The  family  surname  was  originally  pronounced  in 
two  syllables,  and  was,  in  accordance  with  the  irregu- 
larity which  then  prevailed  in  the  spelling  of  proper 
names,  sometimes  written  Bumes  and  sometimes  Bur- 
ness.*  The  immediate,  as  well  as  the  more  remote 
ancestors  of  Burns  were  yeomen  or  small  farmers  in 
the  IMearns,  with  cherished  family  traditions  of  which 
they  were  justly  proud,  and  traces  of  them  are  still  to 
be  found  in  Kincardineshire  records  reaching  up  to  a 
period  two  hundred  years  prior  to  the  era  of  the  Ayr- 
shire bard.  From  Dr.  Burnes'  researches  into  these 
records  we  glean  the  following  fa^ts  regarding  the 
poet's  more  immediate  ancestors. 

*  In  earlier  Scotch  every  vowel  was  sounded  as  a  separate  syllable,  as  is  still 
the  case  in  German,  so  that  the  name  was  pronounced  in  the  same  way  whether 
written  with  a  single  j  or  with  two.  Most  of  the  members  of  the  family  who 
retain  the  old  pronunciation  now  spell  it  with  the  double  s,  though  some,  as  the 
writer  of  the  "Notes"  above  referred  to,  and  the  late  Sir  Alexander  Bumes,  the 
distinguished  Eastern  traveller,  continued  to  follow  what  was  probably  the  origi- 
nal spelling.  As  the  poet,  however,  up  to  the  time  he  changed  the  spelling  of 
his  name  to  Bums,  uniformly  wrote  it  Bumess,  we  deem  it  only  respectful  to 
him  to  follow^  his  own  mode  of  spelling  his  own  name,  and  to.  apply  it  to  other 
members  of  the  family  who  have  not  put  themselves  on  reoatd.  as  spelling  it 
Bumes. — J.  H. 


INTRODUCTORY. 


331 


The  parents  of  our  poet's  paternal  grandfather  and 
namesake,  Robert  Burness,  were  James  Burness,  tenant 
of  Bralinmuir,  in  the  parish  of  Glenbervie,  who  died 
in  1743,  aged  87,  and  Margaret  Falconer,  who  died  in 
1749,  aged  90.  Robert,  their  second  son,*  was  mar- 
ried to  Isabella  Keith,  of  the  family  of  Keith  of  Craig, 
and  rented  the  farm  of  Clochnahill,  in  the  parish  of 
Dunotter.  Of  him  is  recorded  the  honorable  fact  that, 
in  conjunction  with  some  of  his  neighbors,  he  built  a 
school-house  on  his  farm — the  first  erected  in  the  dis- 
trict— and  shared  in  the  expense  of  hiring  a  teacher 
to  instruct  the  rising  generation  around. 

Robert  Burness  at  Ci^ochnahiIvI,,  and  IsabeIvI«a  Keith,  his 
Spouse,  had  issue  as  follows: — 

I.  James,      bom  1717.   |  ^^^^°^^  ^  merchant  and  Town  |  j^.^^  ^^  ^^^^^ 
(■     Councillor  in  Montrose     .  i 
/Some    time    a    gardener    in\         „         g 
I     England i 

Father  of  the  Poet  ...  "     1784. 

f  Married  Andrew  Walker,   at  \ 

I      Crawton / 

/  Married  John  Caird,  in  Den-  \ 

\     side f 

f  Married  John    Buxness,    and  \ 
I     died  without  issue  .    .    .    .  i 

Died  in  early  life 

(Married    William     Brand,     a> 
I     dyer  in  Auchenblae    .    .    .  f 

Died  unmarried 


2. 

Robert,        ' 

1719 

3- 

William,  ' 

1721 

4- 

Margaret,    ' 

1723 

5. 

Elspet,         ' 

1725 

6. 

Jean,            " 

1727 

7- 

George,       * 

1729 

8. 

Isabel,          ' 

1730 

9- 

Mary,           * 

'     1732 

The  second  and  third  sons  of  this  family,  Robert 
and  William,  were  driven,  through  some  misfortunes 
that  overtook  the  household  of  Clochnahill,  apparently 
in  1748,1  to  travel  southward  in  quest  of  employment. 


*  This  Robert  Burness  was,  about  a.d.  1700,  one  of  five  brothers  of  substantial 
position  in  the  Mearns,  who  could  shew  silver  utensils  at  their  tables,  with  other 
indications  of  wealth  unusual  in  that  county. — Dr.  Btirnes's  Notes,  1851. 

t  A  certificate  (now  possessed  by  Mr.  Gilbert  Burns.  Dublin),  dated  9th  May 
1748,  granted  to  William  Burness  by  three  landowners  in  Kincardineshire,  testi- 
fying that  the  bearer  "is  the  son  of  an  honest  Farmer  in  this  neighborhood,  and 
is  a  very  well  inclined  lad  himself;"  and  recommending  him  to  any  Noblemaa 


332  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Robert  made  his  way  into  England,  and  William  found 
work  in  Edinburgh  and  its  vicinity  for  about  two 
years.  The  latter  particularly  mentioned  in  after  days 
to  his  children,  that  he  had  been  employed  at  the 
laying  out  of  the  Meadows  on  the  south  side  of  the 
city  ;  and  that  work  was  executed  chiefly  in  1749.  In 
1750,  he  accepted  a  two  years'  engagement  as  gar- 
dener to  the  Laird  of  Fairly  in  the  parish  of  Dun- 
donald,  Ayrshire,  from  which  he  removed  in  1752  to 
the  banks  of  the  Doon,  where  he  served  for  sometime 
as  gardener  to  Mr.  Crawford  of  Doonside.  Desiring  to 
settle  in  life,  he  took  a  perpetual  lease,  of  seven  acres 
of  ground  in  the  parish  of  Alloway,  fro^  Dr.  Camp- 
bell of  Ayr,  with  the  view  of  commencing  on  his  own 
account  as  a  nurseryman  and  market-gardener.  On 
this  land,  close  by  the  roadside  leading  southward  to 
the  ruins  of  Alloway  Kirk,  he  built  with  his  own 
hands  a  cot-house  of  two  apartments,  to  which,  in 
December  1757,  he  brought  home  from  May  bole  as  his 
bride,  Agnes  Brown,  the  mother  of  our  author,  who 
shall  now  himself  take  up  the  narrative  at  the  point 
where  we  stop.  J.   H. 


TO   DR.    MOORE.* 

Sir, — For  some  time  past  I  have  been  rambling  over 
the  countr>%  partly  on  account  of  some  little  business 
I  have  to  settle  in  various  places  ;  but  of  late  I  have 
been    confined  with  some    lingering  complaints,  origi- 

or  gentleman  as  a  fit  servant  according  to  his  capabilities,  affords  strong  pre- 
sumptive evidence  that  William  Bumess  had  not  left  his  paternal  roof  prior  to 
that  date. 

*  Dr.  Moore  was  a  medical  man  of  good  standing  in  London,  and  author  of 
several  works  of  repute,  some  professional,  others  narratives  of  travels,  works 
of  fiction,  &c.,  of  which  his  novel  of  Zeluco  is  best  known.  (See  Burns'  letter  to 
Dr.  Moore,  14th  July,  1790,  and  to  Mrs.  Dunlop,  January  12,  1794).  He  was  a  warm- 
hearted Scotchman  (a  native  of  Stirling)  and  was  made  acquainted  with  Bums 
by  Mrs.  Dunlop,  while  he,  in  turn  brought  the  bard  under  the  notice  of  the  Earl 
of  Eglinton.— J.  H, 


.    '"  AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  333 

nating,  as  I  take  it,  in  the  stomach.  To  divert  my 
spirits  a  little  in  this  miserable  fog  of  ennni^  I  have 
taken  a  whim  to  give  you  a  history  of  myself. 

My  name  has  made  a  small  noise  in  the  country  ; 
you  have  done  me  the  honor  to  interest  yourself  very 
warmly  in  my  behalf;  and  I  think  a  faithful  account 
of  what  character  of  a  man  I  am,  and  how  I  came  by 
that  character,  may  perhaps  amuse  you  in  an  idle 
moment.  I  will  give  you  an  honest  narrative,  though 
I  know  it  will  be  at  the  expence  of  frequently  being 
laugh' d  at  ;  for  I  assure  you.  Sir,  I  have,  like  Solomon, 
whose  character,  except  in  the  trifling  affair  of  Wisdom, 
I  sometimes  think  I  resemble, — I  have,  I  say,  like 
him  "turned  my  eyes  to  behold  madness  and  folly," 
and  like  him,  too  frequently  shaken  hands  with  their 
intoxicating  friendship.  In  the  very  polite  letter  Miss 
Williams  did  me  the  honor  to  write  me,  *  she  tells  me 
you  have  got  a  complaint  in  your  eyes.  I  pray  God 
it  may  be  removed  ;  for,  considering  that  lady  and  you 
are  my  common  friends,  you  will  probably  employ  her 
Lo  read  this  letter  ;  and  then  good-night  to  that  esteem 
with  which  she  was  pleased  to  honor  the  Scotch  bard ! 

After  you  have  perused  these  pages,  should  you  think 
them  trifling  and  impertinent,  I  only  beg  leave  to  tell 
you,  that  the  poor  author  wrote  them  under  some  very 
twitching  qualms  of  conscience,  that,  perhaps,  he  was 
doing  what  he  ought  not  to  do  ;  a  predicament  he  has 
more  than  once  been  in  before. 

I  have  not  the  most  distant  pretense  to  what  the 
pyecoated  guardians  of  Escutcheons  call  a  Gentleman. 
When  at  Edinburgh  last  winter,  I  got  acquainted  at 
the  Herald's  Office  ;  and,  looking  thro'  the  granary  of 
honors,  I  there  found  almost  every  name  in  the  king- 
dom ;  but  for  me — 

"My  ancient  but  ignoble  blood, 
Has  crept  thro'  scoundrels  since  the  flood." 

*  This  lady,  Helen  Maria  Williams,  an  authoress  of  some  note  in  her  day,  will 
be  hereafter  referred  to. 


334  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Gules,  purpiire,  argent,  etc.,  quite  disowned  me.  My 
forefathers  rented  land  of  the  famous,  noble  Keiths  of 
Marischal,  and  had  the  honor  to  share  their  fate.*  I 
do  not  use  the  word  "honor"  with  any  reference  to 
political  principles  :  loyal  and  disloyal  I  take  to  be 
merely  relative  terms  in  that  ancient  and  formidable 
court  known  in  this  country  by  the  name  of  "club- 
law."  Those  who  dare  welcome  Ruin  and  shake  hands 
with  Infamy,  for  what  they  believe  sincerely  to  be  the 
cause  of  their  God  or  their  King,  are — as  Mark  An- 
tony in  S ha kcspc a r  siiys  of  Bnitus  and  Cassius — "hon- 
orable men."  I  mention  this  circumstance  because  it 
threw  my  Father  on  the  world  at  large  i,  where,  after 
many  years'  wanderings  and  sojoumings,  he  picked  up 
a  pretty  large  quantity  of  observation  and  experience, 
to  which  I  am  indebted  for  most  of  my  pretensions  to 
Wisdom.  I  have  met  with  few  who  understood  Men, 
their  manners  and  their  ways,  equal  to  him  ;  but  stub- 
born, ungainly  Integrity,  and  headlong,  ungovernable 
Irascibility,  are  disqualifying  circumstances ;  conse- 
quently, I  was  bom  a  very  poor  man's  son. 

For  the  first  six  or  seven  years  of  my  life,  my 
Father  was  gardener  to  a  worthy  gentleman  of  small 
estate  in  the  neighborhood  of  Ayr.f  Had  my  Father 
continued  in  that  situation,  I  must  have  marched  off 
to  have  been  one  of  the  little  underlings  about  a  fann- 
house ;  but  it  was  his  dearest  wish  and  prayer  to 
have   it  in  his  power  to  keep   his  children   under   his 


•The  famous  Marshal  Keith,  whose  statue  adorns  the  dty  of  Berlin,  was  of 
this  family,  and  was  attainted  along  with  his  elder  brother  George,  for  partici- 
pating in  the  rising  of  1715.  The  family  is  now  represented  by  the  Earl  of  Kin- 
tore. 

In  reference  to  this  Gilbert  Bums  says  :  "  I  do  not  know  how  my  brother 
could  be  misled  in  the  account  he  has  given  of  the  Jacobitisra  of  his  ancestors. 
I  believe  the  Earl  Marischal  forfeited  his  estate  in  1715,  before  my  father  was 
bom,  and  among  a  bundle  of  parish  certificates  in  his  possession,  I  have  found  one, 
stating  that  the  bearer  had  no  concern  in  the  late  wicked  rebellion.  "  The  state- 
ments of  the  two  brothers  are  quite  reconcileable.  Robert  does  not  say  it  was 
his  father  who  shared  the  fate  of  the  Earl  Marischal,  but  his  fore-fathers.—^.  H. 

t  William  Fergnsson,  Esq.  of  Doonholm,  then  Provost  of  Ayr. 


^T.  28.]  AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  335 

own  eye,  till  they  could  discern  between  good  and 
evil ;  so,  with  the  assistance  of  his  generous  Master, 
he  ventured  on  a  small  farm  in  that  gentleman's 
estate.*  At  these  years,  I  was  by  no  means  a  favor- 
ite with  anybody.  I  was  a  good  deal  noted  for  a  re- 
tentive memory,  a  stubborn,  sturdy  somethmg  in  my 
disposition,  and  an  enthusiastic  idiot-piety.  I  say 
' '  idiot-piety, ' '  because  I  was  then  but  a  child.  Though 
I  cost  the  schoolmaster  some  thrashings,  I  made  an 
excellent  English  scholar ;  and  against  the  years  of 
ten  or  eleven,  I  was  absolutely  a  critic  in  substan- 
tives, verbs,  and  particles.  In  my  infant  and  boyish 
days,  too,  I  owed  much  to  an  old  maid  of  my  moth- 
er's, t  remarkable  for  her  ignorance,  credulity,  and 
superstition.  She  had,  I  suppose,  the  largest  collec- 
tion in  the  country,  of  tales  and  songs  concerning 
devils,  ghosts,  fairies,  brownies,  witches,  warlocks, 
spunkies,  kelpies,  elf-candles,  dead-lights,  wraiths,  ap- 
paritions, cantraips,  enchanted  towers,  giants,  dragons 
and  other  trumpery.  This  cultivated  the  latent  seeds 
of  Poesy  ;  but  had  so  strong  an  effect  on  my  imagina- 
tion, that  to  this  hour,  in  my  nocturnal  rambles,  I 
sometimes  keep  a  sharp  look-out  in  suspicious  places  ; 
and  though  nobody  can  be  more  sceptical  in  these 
matters  than  I  yet  it  often  takes  an  effort  of  philoso- 
phy to  shake  off  these  idle  terrors.  The  earliest  thing 
of  composition  that  I  recollect  taking  pleasure  in,  was 
"The  Vision  of  Mirza,"  and  a  hymn  of  Addison's, 
beginning,  ' '  How  are  thy  servants  blest,  O  Lord  ! ' ' 
I  particularly  remember  one  half-stanza  which  was 
music  to  my  boyish  ears, — 

"  For  though   in  dreadful  whirls  we  huug 
High  on  the  broken  wave  ; " 


♦Mount  Oliphant,  some  two  miles  from  the  poet's  birthplace. 

fThe  "  maid"  was  an  old  woman  named  Betty  Davidson,  widow  of  a  cousin  of 
his  mother's,  who  was  maintained  in  the  family  and  repaid  their  kindness  by 
doing  all  the  good  offices  in  her  power. — J.  H. 


336  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

I  met  with  these  pieces  in  Mason's  English  Collection, 
one  of  my  school-books.  The  first  two  books  I  evei 
read  in  private,  and  which  gave  me  more  pleasure 
than  any  two  books  I  ever  read  again,  were  "The 
Life  of  Hannibal,"  and  "The  History  of  Sir  Wil- 
liam Wallace."  *  Hannibal  gave  my  young  ideas  such 
a  turn,  that  I  used  to  strut  in  raptures  up  and  down 
after  the  recruiting  drum  and  bag-pipe,  and  wish  my- 
self tall  enough  that  I  might  be  a  soldier  ;  while  the 
story  of  Wallace  poured  a  Scottish  prejudice  in  my 
veins,  which  will  boil  along  there  till  the  flood-gates 
of  life  shut  in  eternal  rest. 

Polemical  Divinity  about  this  time  was  putting  the 
country  half-mad,  and  I,  ambitious  of  shining  on 
Sundays,  between  sermons,  in  conversation  parties, 
at  funerals,  &c.,  in  a  few  years  more,  used  to  puzzle 
Calvinism  with  so  much  heat  and  indiscretion,  that  I 
raised  a  hue  and  cry  of  heresy  against  me,  which  has 
not  ceased  to  this  hour.f 

My  vicinity  to  Ayr  was  of  great  advantage  to  me. 
My  social  disposition,  when  not  checked  by  some 
modification  of  spited  pride, |  like  our  Catechism's 
definition  of  Infinitude  was  ' '  without  bounds  or 
limits."  I  formed  many  connexions  with  other 
younkers  who  possessed  superior  advantages ;  the 
youngling  actors  who  were  busy  with  the  rehearsal  of 
parts,  in  which  they  were  shortly  to  appear  on  that 
stage  where,  alas  !  I  was  destined  to  drudge  behind 
the  scenes.  It  is  not  commonly  at  these  green  years 
that  the  young  Noblesse  and  Gentry  have  a  just  sense 
of   the    immense     distance    between    them    and    their 


*  Borrowed  respectively  from  Mr.  Murdoch,  his  early  teacher  and  the  black* 
smith  who  shod  his  father's  horses. — J.  H. 

tSee  Twa  Herds,  Ordination,  Epistles  to  Gavin  Hamilton,  &c.,  &c. — J.  'H. 

t  The  MS.  reads  "spited  pride,"  and  so  it  reads  in  Currie's  first  and  second 
editions.  The  epithet  is  changed  to  "spirited"  in  the  third  edition,  which  expres- 
sion has  been  retained  in  all  previous  reprints  of  the  letter  save  Peterson's. 
"Spited  pride  "is  a  common  Ayrshire  expression  for  "hurt  pride,"  and  we  re* 
Store  it  accordingly.— J.  H. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  337 

ragged  play-fellows.  It  takes  a  few  dashes  into  the 
world,  to  give  the  young  Great  Man  that  proper,  de- 
cent, unnoticing  disregard  for  the  poor,  insignificant, 
stupid  devils,  the  mechanics  and  peasantry  around  him, 
who  perhaps  were  born  in  the  same  Village.  My  young 
superiors  never  insulted  the  clouterly  appearance  of 
my  plough-boy  carcase,  the  two  extremes  of  which 
were  often  exposed  to  all  the  inclemencies  of  all  the 
seasons.  They  would  give  me  stray  volumes  of  books ; 
among  them,  even  then,  I  could  pick  up  some  obser- 
vations, and  one,  whose  heart  I  am  sure  not  even  the 
"Munny  Begum's"  scenes  have  tainted,  helped  me 
to  a  little  French.  Parting  with  these  my  young 
friends  and  benefactors,  as  they  dropped  off  for  East 
or  West  Indies,  was  often  to  me  a  sore  affliction  ;  but 
I  was  soon  called  to  more  serious  evils.  My  Father's 
generous  Master  died  ;  the  farm  proved  a  ruinous  bar- 
gain ;  and  to  clench  the  curse,  we  fell  into  the  hands 
of  a  Factor,  who  sat  for  the  picture  I  have  drawn  of 
one  in  my  tale  of  Two  Dogs.  My  Father  was  ad- 
vanced in  life  when  he  married  ;  *  I  was  the  eldest  of 
seven  children,  and  he,  worn  out  by  early  hardship, 
was  unfit  for  labor.  My  Father' s  spirit  was  soon  irri- 
tated, but  not  easily  broken.  There  was  a  freedom 
in  his  lease  in  two  years  more,  and  to  weather  these, 
we  retrenched  expenses.  We  lived  very  poorly :  I  was 
a  dexterous  ploughman  for  my  years,  and  the  next 
eldest  to  me  was  a  brother,  who  could  drive  the  plough 
very  well,  and  help  me  to  thrash.  A  novel-writer 
might  perhaps  have  viewed  these  scenes  with  some 
satisfaction,  but  so  did  not  I  ;  my  indignation  yet 
boils  at  [the  recollection  of]  the  threatening,  insolent 
epistles  from  the  Scoundrel  Tyrant,  which  used  to  set 
us  all  in  tears. 

This  kind  of  life — the  cheerless  gloom  of  a  hermit, 


*  He  was  36  years  of  age. — J.  H. 
I.  V 


338  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

with  the  unceasing  toil  of  a  galley-slave — brought  me 
to  my  sixteenth  year  ;  a  little  before  which  period  I 
first  committed  the  sin  of  rhyme.  You  know  our 
country  custom  of  coupling  a  man  and  a  woman  to- 
gether as  partners  in  the  labors  of  harvest.  In  my 
fifteenth  *  autumn,  my  partner  was  a  bewitching 
creature  who  just  counted  an  autumn  less.  My  scarcity 
of  English  denies  me  the  power  of  doing  her  justice 
in  that  language,  but  you  know  the  Scotch  idiom  : 
she  was  a  ' '  bonie,  sweet,  sonsie  lass. "  f  In  short, 
she,  altogether  unwittingly  to  herself,  initiated  me 
into  a  certain  delicious  passion,  which,  in  spite  of 
acid  disappointment,  gin-horse  prudence,  and  book- 
worm philosophy,  I  hold  to  be  the  first  of  human 
joys,  our  chiefest  pleasure  here  below.  How  she 
caught  the  contagion  I  can't  say  ;  you  medical  folks 
talk  much  of  infection  by  breathing  the  same  air,  the 
touch,  etc. ;  but  I  never  expressly  told  her  that  I  loved 
her.  Indeed,  I  did  not  well  know  myself  why  I  liked 
so  much  to  loiter  behind  with  her,  when  returning  in 
the  evening  from  our  labors  ;  why  the  tones  of  her 
voice  made  my  heart-strings  thrill  like  an  ^olian 
harp ;  and  particularly  why  my  pulse  beat  such  a 
furious  rantann,  when  I  looked  and  fingered  over 
her  hand  to  pick  out  the  nettle-stings  and  thistles. 
Among  her  other  love-inspiring  qualifications,  she  sung 
sweetly ;  and  'twas  her  favorite  Scotch  reel  that  I 
attempted  to  give  an  embodied  vehicle  to  in  rhyme. 
I  was  not  so  presumptive  as  to  imagine  that  I  could 
make  verses  like  printed  ones,  composed  by  men  who 
had  Greek  and  Latin  ;  but  my  girl  sung  a  song  which 
was  said  to  be  composed  by  a  small  country  laird's 
son,  on  one  of  his  father's  maids,  with  whom  he  was 

•Gilbert  Bums,  in  this  and  other  episodes  of  the  Mount  Oliphant  and  early 
Lochlea  periods,  advances  the  poet's  age  two  j'ears. — J.  H. 

t  Nelly  Kirkpatrick  by  name,  and  according  to  Mrs.  Begg,  daughter  of  the 
blacksmith  who  lent  him  one  of  the  two  first  books  he  ever  read — "  The  Life  ol 
Wallace."    She  is  the  subject  of  his  first  song :    "  My  Handsome  Nell." — J.  H. 


'    '  AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  839 

in  love  ;  and  I  saw  no  reason  why  I  might  not  rhyme 
as  well  as  he ;  for,  excepting  smearing  sheep,  and  cast- 
ing peats  (his  father  living  in  the  moors),  he  had  no 
more  scholar-craft  than  I  had.  Thus  with  me  began 
love  and  poesy  ;  which  at  times  have  been  my  only, 
and  till  within  this  last  twelve  months,  have  been  my 
highest  enjoyment. 

My  Father  struggled  on  till  he  reached  a  freedom  * 
in  his  lease,  when  he  entered  on  a  larger  farm,  about 
ten  miles  farther  in  the  country,  f  The  nature  of  the 
bargain  was  such  as  to  throw  a  little  ready  money  in 
his  hand  at  the  commencement,  otherwise  the  affair 
would  have  been  impracticable.  For  four  years  we 
lived  comfortably  here ;  but  a  lawsuit  between  him 
and  his  landlord  commencing,  after  three  years'  toss- 
ing and  whirling  in  the  vortex  of  litigation,  my  Fathel 
was  just  saved  from  absorption  in  a  jail,  by  a  phthisi- 
cal consumption,  which,  after  two  years'  promises, 
kindly  stept  in,  and  snatched  him  away  to  "where 
the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  where  the  weary 
are  at  rest." 

It  is  during  this  climacteric  that  my  little  story  k 
most  eventful.  .  I  was,  at  the  beginning  of  this  period, 
perhaps  the  most  ungainly,  awkward  being  in  the 
parish.  No  solitaire  was  less  acquainted  with  the  ways 
of  the  world.  My  knowledge  of  ancient  story  was 
gathered  from  Guthrie's  and  Salmon's  Geographical 
Grammar  ;  my  knowledge  of  modern  manners,  and  of 
literature  and  criticism,  I  got  from  the  Spectator. 
These,  with  Pope's  Works,  some  Plays  of  Shakspear, 
Tull  and  Dickson  on  Agriculture,  The  Pantheon, 
Locke's  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding,  Stack- 
house's  History  of  the  Bible,  Justice's  British  Gardener, 
Boyle   Lectures,  Allan   Ramsay's  Works,   Doctor  Tay- 

*  Often  called  "a  break "— z.  <>. ,  a  period  at  which  he  had  the  option  of  re 
nouncing^  the  lease. — J.  H. 
t  lyOchlea  near  Tarbolton.— J.  H. 


340  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

lor's  Scripture  Doctrine  of  Original  Sin,  A  Select 
Collection  of  English  Songs,*  and  Herv^ey's  Medita- 
tions, had  been  the  extent  of  my  reading.  The  col- 
lection of  songs  was  my  vadc  mcaim.  I  pored  over 
them,  driving  my  cart,  or  walking  to  labor,  song  by 
song,  verse  by  verse  ;  carefully  noting  the  tender  or 
sublime  from  affectation  and  fustian.  I  am  convinced 
I  owe  much  to  this  for  my  critic-craft,  such  as  it  is. 

In  my  seventeenth  year,  to  give  my  manners  a 
brush,  I  went  to  a  country  dancing-school,  f  My  Father 
had  an  unaccountable  antipathy  against  these  meetings, 
and  my  going  was,  what  to  this  hour  I  repent,  in 
absolute  defiance  of  his  commands.  IVl^  Father,  as  I 
said  before,  was  the  sport  of  strong  passions  ;  from  that 
instance  of  rebellion  he  took  a  kind  of  dislike  to  me, 
which,  I  believe,  was  one  cause  of  that  dissipation 
which  marked  my  future  years.  %  I  say  dissipation, 
comparative  with  the  strictness  and  sobriety  of  Pres- 
byterian country  life  ;  for  though  the  Will-O'-Wisp 
meteors  of  thoughtless  whim  were  almost  the  sole 
lights  of  my  path,  yet,  early  ingrained  piety  and  vir- 
tue never  failed  to  point  me  out  the  line  of  innocence. 
The  great  misfortune  of  my  life  was  never  to  have  an 
aim.     I  had  felt  early  some  stirrings  of  ambition,  but 


*  This  select  collection  of  Songs  was  published  by  Gordon  of  Edinburgh  1765, 
and  entitled  "The  Lark."  It  consists  of  324  pages  and  comprises  some  fine  old 
songs  and  ballads,  but  a  good  deal  of  inferior  stuflf  as  well.  It  was  from  this 
source  that  the  poet  seems  to  have  picked  up  such  names  as  Chloris  and  Chloe, 
these  being  the  fashion  of  the  time. — J.  H. 

t  According  to  most  at  Tarbolton,  but  if  this  is  so,  the  poet  must  have  been  in 
his  nineteenth  year. — J.  H. 

X  Bums  here  much  exaggerates  his  father's  aversion  to  him,  and  he  was  in  no 
sense  a  "dissipated"  man  till  after  the  date  of  this  letter.  But  the  very  exaggera- 
tion proves  with  what  avidity  the  poet's  sensitive  heart  craved  for  a  father's  love. 
Gilbert  Bums  says :  I  wonder  how  Robert  could  attribute  that  lasting  resentment 
of  his  going  to  a  dancing-school  against  his  will,  of  which  he  was  incapable.  I 
believe  the  truth  was  that  he,  about  this  time  began  to  see  the  dangerous  im- 
petuosity of  my  brother's  passions,  as  well  as  his  not  being  amenable  to  counsel, 
which  often  irritated  my  father ;  and  which  he  would  naturally  think  a  dancing- 
school  was  not  likely  to  correct.  But  he  was  proud  of  Robert's  genius,  and  he 
was  greatly  delighted  with  his  warmth  of  heart  and  his  conversational  powers.— 
J.  H. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  341 

they  were  the  blind  gropings  of  Homer' s  Cyclops  round 
the  walls  of  his  cave.  I  saw  my  father's  situation 
entailed  on  me  perpetual  labor.  The  only  two  doors 
by  which  I  could  enter  the  fields  of  fortune  were — 
the  most  niggardly  economy,  or  the  little  chicaning  art 
of  bargain-making.  The  first  is  so  contracted  an  aper- 
ture, I  never  could  squeeze  myself  into  it :  the  last— 
I  always  hated  the  contamination  of  its  threshold ! 
Thus  abandoned  of  view  or  aim  in  life,  with  a  strong 
appetite  for  sociability  (as  well  from  native  hilarity  as 
from  a  pride  of  observation  and  remark),  and  a  con- 
stitutional hypochondriac  taint  which  made  me  fly  soli- 
tude :  add  to  all  these  incentives  to  social  life — my 
reputation  for  bookish  knowledge,  a  certain  wild  logi- 
cal talent,  and  a  strength  of  thought,  something  like 
the  rudiments  of  good  sense,  made  me  generally  a 
welcome  guest.  So  'tis  no  great  wonder  that  always, 
"where  two  or  three  were  met  together,  there  was  I 
in  the  midst  of  them."  But  far  beyond  all  the  other 
impulses  of  my  heart,  was  tin  penchant  a  V adorable 
moitic  du  genre  hnmain.  My  heart  was  completely 
tinder,  and  was  eternally  lighted  up  by  some  Goddess 
or  other  ;  and;  like  every  warfare  in  this  world,  I  was 
sometimes  crowned  with  success,  and  sometimes  mor- 
tified with  defeat.  At  the  plough,  scythe,  or  reaphook, 
I  feared  no  competitor,  and  set  want  at  defiance  ;  and 
as  I  never  cared  farther  for  any  labors  than  while  I 
was  in  actual  exercise,  I  spent  the  evening  in  the  way 
after  my  own  heart.  A  country  lad  seldom  carries  on 
an  amour  without  an  assisting  confidant.  I  possessed 
a  curiosity,  zeal,  and  intrepid  dexterity  in  these  mat- 
ters which  recommended  me  as  a  proper  second  in 
duels  of  that  kind  ;  and  I  dare  say,  I  felt  as  much 
pleasure  at  being  in  the  secret  of  half  the  amours 
in  the  parish,  as  ever  did  Premier  at  knowing  the  in- 
trigues of  half  the  courts  of  Europe. 

The  very  goose-feather   in   my  hand  seems  instinct- 


342  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

jvely  to  know  tlie  well-worn  path  of  my  imagination, 
the  favorite  theme  of  my  song  ;  and  is  with  diffi- 
culty restrained  from  giving  you  a  couple  of  paragraphs 
on  the  amours  of  my  compeers,  the  humble  inmates 
of  the  fann-house  and  cottage  :  but  the  grave  sons  of 
science,  ambition,  or  avarice  baptize  these  things  by 
the  name  of  follies.  To  the  sons  and  dau2:hters  of 
labor  and  poverty  they  are  matters  of  the  most 
serious  nature  :  to  them  the  ardent  hope,  the  stolen 
interview,  the  tender  farewell,  are  the  greatest  and 
most  delicious  part  of  their  enjoyments. 

Another  circumstance  in  my  life  which  made  very 
considerable  alterations  on  my  mind  and  manners  was 
— I  spent  my  seventeenth  summer*  a  good  distance 
from  home,  at  a  noted  school  on  a  smuggling  coast, 
to  learn  mensuration,  surveying,  dialling,  etc.  in  which 
I  made  a  pretty  good  progress,  f  But  I  made  a  greater 
progress  in  the  knowledge  of  mankind.  The  contra- 
band trade  was  at  this  time  ver>^  successful :  scenes  of 
swaggering  riot  and  roaring  dissipation  were  as  yet 
new  to  me,  and  I  was  no  enemy  to  social  life.  Here, 
though  I  learnt  to  look  unconcernedly  on  a  large  tav- 
eni-bill,  and  mix  without  fear  in  a  drunken  squabble, 
yet  I  went  on  with  a  high  hand  in  my  geometry,  till 
the  sun  entered  Virgo,  X  a  month  which  is  always  a 
carnival  in  my  bosom  :  a  Charming  Fillettc^  who  lived 
next  door  to  the  school,  overset  my  trigonometry,  and 
sent  me  off  in  a  tangent  from  the  spheres  of  my  stud- 
ies. I  struggled  on  with  my  sines  and  co-sines  for  a 
few  days  more  ;    but  stepping  out   to   the   garden  one 


♦This  is  "nineteenth  summer"  in  Currie's  edition  ;  he  has  noted  that  the  al- 
teration was   sugg^ested   by  Gilbert  Bums. 

t  The  School  was  at  Kirkoswald.  He  lived  with  Samuel  Brown,  a  brother  of  his 
toother's,  who  owned  a  cottage  in  a  sweet  locality  by  the  roadside  about  a  mile 
from  the  village.  It  was  here  he  became  acquainted  with  the  original  charact- 
ers subsequently  immortalized  in  "  Tam  O'  Shanter." — J.  H. 

X  Sun  enters  Virgo  on  23d  August.  The  charming  Fillette  was  Peggy  Thomson, 
the  subject  of  the  beautiful  "  Song  composed  in  August." — J.  H. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  343 

charming  noon  to  take  tlie  sun's  altitude,  I  met  with 
my  angel — 

"Like  Proserpine  gathering  flowers, 
Herself  a  fairer  flower ."* 

It  was  in  vain  to  think  of  doing  any  more  good  at 
school.  The  remaining  week  I  staid  I  did  nothing 
but  craze  the  faculties  of  my  soul  about  her,  or  steal 
out  to  meet  with  her  ;  and  the  two  last  nights  of  my 
stay  in  the  country,  had  sleep  been  a  mortal  sin,  I 
was  innocent. 

I  returned  liomef  very  considerably  improved.  My 
reading  was  enlarged  with  the  very  important  addition 
of  Thomson's  and  Shenstone's  Works :  I  had  seen 
mankind  in  a  new  phasis ;  and  I  engaged  several  of 
my  schoolfellows  to  keep  up  a  literary  correspondence 
with  me.  I  had  met  with  a  collection  of  letters  by 
the  wits  of  Queen  Anne's  reign,  and  I  pored  over 
them  most  devoutly.  I  kept  copies  of  any  of  my  own 
letters  that  pleased  me,  and  a  comparison  between 
them  and  the  composition  of  most  of  my  correspond- 
ents flattered  my  vanity.  I  carried  this  whim  so  far, 
that  though  I  had  not  three-farthings'  worth  of  busi- 
ness in  the  world,  yet  every  post  brought  me  as  many 
letters  as  if  I  had  been  a  broad  plodding  son  of  day- 
book and  ledger. 

My  life  flowed  on  much  in  the  same  tenor  till  my 
twenty-third  year.  Vive  P amour ^  ct  vive  la  bagatelle^ 
were  my  sole  principles  of  action.  The  addition  of 
two  more  authors  to  my  library  gave  me  great  pleas- 
ure ;  Sterne  and  "Mackenzie — "Tristram  Shandy"  and 
the  "Man  of  Feeling" — were  my  bosom  favorites. 

Poesy  was  still  a  darling  walk  for  my  mind,  but 
'twas  only  the  humor  of  the  hour.     I  had  usually  half  a 

♦"Paradise  I,ost,"  b.  iv.,  1.  268.  The  poet  must  have  quoted  from  memory. 
Like  does  not  belong  to  Milton  and  should  not  have  been  included  in  the  quota- 
tion.—J.  H. 

fTo  IvOchlea  probably.— J.  H. 


344  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

dozen  or  more  pieces  on  hand  ;  I  took  up  one  or  otlier 
as  it  suited  the  momentary  tone  of  the  mind,  and  dis- 
missed it  as  it  bordered  on  fatigue.  My  passions, 
when  once  they  were  lighted  up,  raged  like  so  many 
devils  till  they  got  vent  in  rhyme  ;  and  then  conning 
over  my  verses,  like  a  spell,  soothed  all  into  quiet ! 
None  of  the  rhymes  of  those  days  are  in  print,  except 
"Winter,  a  dirge"  (the  eldest  of  my  printed  pieces), 
"The  Death  and  dying  words  of  poor  Mailie,"  "John 
Barleycorn,"  and  Songs  first,  and  second  and  third. 
Song  second  was  the  ebullition  of  that  passion  which 
ended  the  forementioned  school-business. 

My  twenty-third  year  was  to  me  an  important  sera. 
Partly  through  whim,  and  partly  that  I  wished  to  set 
about  doing  something  in  life,  I  joined  with  a  flax- 
dresser  in  a  neighboring  country  town,*  to  learn  his 
trade,  and  carry  on  the  business  of  manufacturing  and 
retailing  flax.  This  turned  out  a  sadly  unlucky  affair. 
My  partner  was  a  scoundrel  of  the  first  water,  who 
made  money  by  the  mystery  of  Thieving,  and  to  finish 
the  whole,  while  we  were  giving  a  welcome  carousal 
to  the  New  Year,  our  shop,  by  the  drunken  careless- 
ness of  my  partner's  wife,  took  fire  and  burned  to 
ashes,  and  I  was  left,  like  a  true  poet,  not  worth  six- 
pence. I  was  obliged  to  give  up  business ;  the  clouds 
of  misfortime  were  gathering  thick  round  my  Father's 
head  ;  the  darkest  of  which  was — he  was  visibly  far 
gone  in  a  consumption.  To  crown  all,  a  belle  Jille  f 
whom  I  adored,  and  who  had  pledged  her  soul  to  meet 
me  in  the  fields  of  matrimony,  jilted  me,  with  peculiar 
circumstances  of  mortification.  The  finishing  evil  that 
brought  up  the  rear  of  this  infernal  file,  was  my 
hypochondriac  complaint  being  irritated  to  such  a  de- 
gree, that  for  three  months  I  was  in  a  diseased  state 
of  body  and  mind,  scarcely  to  be  envied  by  the  hope- 

*  Irvine,  then  the  emporium  of  the  flax-dressing  trade. — J.  H. 

t  Ellison  Begbie,  to  whom  he  addressed  the  song,  "  On  Cessnock  Banks." — ^J.  H. 


,     -  AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  345 

less  wretches  who  have  just  got  their  sentence,   "De- 
part from  me,  ye  cursed  !  etc." 

From  this  adventure  I  learned  something  of  a  Town 
life  ;  but  the  principal  thing  which  gave  my  mind  a 
turn  was — I  formed  a  bosom  friendship  with  a  young 
fellow,  the  first  *  created  being  I  had  ever  seen,  but 
a  hapless  son  of  misfortune.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
plain  mechanic  ;  but  a  great  man  in  the  neighborhood 
taking  him  under  his  patronage,  gave  him  a  genteel 
education,  with  a  view  to  bettering  his  situation  in 
life.  The  patron  dying,  and  leaving  my  friend  unpro- 
vided for,  just  as  he  was  ready  to  launch  forth  into 
the  world,  the  poor  fellow,  in  despair,  went  to  sea  ; 
where,  after  a  variety  of  good  and  bad  fortune,  he  was, 
a  little  before  I  was  acquainted  with  him,  set  a-shore  by 
an  American  privateer,  on  the  wild  coast  of  Counaught, 
stript  of  everything.  I  cannot  quit  this  poor  fellow's 
story  without  adding,  that  he  is  at  this  moment  Captain 
of  a  large  West-Indiaman  belonging  to  the  Thames. 

This  gentleman's  mind  was  fraught  with  courage, 
independence,  and  magnanimity,  and  every  noble,  manly 
virtue.  I  loved  him  ;  I  admired  him  to  a  degree  of 
enthusiasm,  and  I  strove  to  imitate  him.  I  in  some 
measure  succeeded  ;  I  had  the  pride  before,  but  he 
taught  it  to  flow  in  proper  channels.  His  knowledge 
of  the  world  was  vastly  superior  to  mine,  and  I  was  all 
attention  to  learn.  He  was  the  only  man  I  ever  saw 
who  was  a  greater  fool  than  myself  when  Woman  was 
the  presiding  star  ;  but  he  spoke  of  a  certain  fashion- 
able failing  with  levity,  which  hitherto  I  had  regarded 
with  horror.  Here  his  friendship  did  me  a  mischief, 
and  the  consequence  was  that  soon  after  I  resumed  the 
plough,   I  wrote  the  enclosed   "Welcome."  f 

*  So  in  the  MS.  meaning  most  excellent,  a  favorite  form  of  expression  with 
Burns.  This  was  Mr.  Richard  Brown,  who  afterwards  became  one  of  the  poet's 
correspondents. 

t  Burns'  sojourn  in  Irvine  did  him  harm  morally  as  well  as  financially,  the 
consequence  of  which  was  that  immediately  on   his  return   to  L,ochlea  he  fell 


346  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

My  reading  was  only  increased  by  two  stray  vol- 
umes of  Pamela,  and  one  of  Ferdinand  Count  Fathom, 
which  gave  me  some  idea  of  novels.  Rhyme,  except 
some  religious  pieces  which  are  in  print,  I  had  given 
up ;  but  meeting  with  Fergusson's  Scotch  Poems,  I 
strung  anew  my  wildly-sounding,  rustic  lyre  with  em- 
ulating vigor.*  When  my  Father  died,  his  all  went 
among  the  rapacious  hell-hounds  that  growl  in  the 
kennel  of  justice  ;  but  we  made  a  shift  to  scrape  a 
little  money  in  the  family  amongst  us,  with  which, 
(to  keep  us  together)  my  brother  and  I  took  a  neigh- 
boring farm.  My  brother  wanted  mj^  hare-brained 
imagination,  as  well  as  my  social  and  amorous  mad- 
ness ;  but  in  good  sense,  and  ever>'  sober  qualification, 
he  was  far  my  superior,  f 

I  entered  on  this  farm  with  a  full  resolution  "Come, 
go  to,  I  will  be  wise  !  "  I  read  farming  books,  I  cal- 
culated crops  ;  I  attended  markets  ;  and  in  short,  in 
spite  of  the  devil,  the  world,  and  the  flesh,  I  believe 
I  should  have  been  a  wise  man  ;  but  the  first  year, 
from  unfortunately  buying  in  bad  seed  ;  the  second, 
from  a  late  harvest,  we  lost  half  of  both  our  crops. 
This  overset  all  my  wisdom,  2nd  I  returned,  "like 
the  dog  to  his  vomit,  and  the  sow  that  was  washed, 
to  her  wallowing  in  the   mire."       I   now  began   to  be 


into  his  first  "mistake."  The  "Welcome"  he  refers  to  is  his  "Welcome"  to  his 
illegitimate  daughter,  his  "dear-bought  Bess."    See  p.  69. — J.  H. 

*  Burns  studied  Fergusson  with  absolute  veneration,  never  dreaming  that  the 
scholar  was  infinitely  greater  than  the  master.  In  Fergusson's  works  it  is  easy 
to  recognize  the  models  of  versification  which  he  followed,  and  occasionally  we 
discover  pieces  he  imitated.  Burns'  favorite  stanza — that  namely  he  adopted  in 
pieces  of  such  various  character  as  "  Holy  Willie's  Prayer,"  "  Death  and  Dying 
Words  of  Poor  Mailie,"  "Verses  to  a  Mouse  "  and  "To  a  Mountain  Daisy" — is 
very  ancient  in  Scottish  poetry.  Fergusson  found  it  in  Ramsay — Ramsay  found 
it  in  Hamilton  of  Gilbertfield,  who  took  as  his  model  Semple  of  Beltrees  to  whom 
it  was  suggested  by  earlier  rhymers. — J.  H. 

t  No  one  placed  a  higher  value  on  the  prosaic  virtues  of  good  sense  and  pru- 
dence than  our  poet,  and  few  had  a  larger  endowment  of  them  or  more  earnestly 
inculcated  their  practice  on  others  (See  "Epistle  To  a  Young  Friend,"  p.  293)  but 
their  admonitions  were  too  often  drow^ned  in  the  "Siren  Voice"  of  his  emotional 
impulses.  For  his  estimate  of  his  own  character,  see  "A  Bard's  Epitaph,"  his 
I^etter  to  Miss  Chalmers,  1793,  ^c.,  &c.— J.  H. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  347 

known  in  the  neighborhood  as  a  maker  of  rhymes. 
The  first  of  my  poetic  offspring  that  saw  the  light, 
was  a  burlesque  lamentation  on  a  quarrel  between  two 
Reverend  Calvinists,  both  of  them  drama/ is  persojioe 
in  my  "Holy  Fair."  I  had  an  idea  myself  that  the 
piece  had  some  merits  ;  but,  to  prevent  the  worst,  I 
gave  a  copy  of  it  to  a  friend  who  was  very  fond  of 
these  things,  and  told  him  I  could  not  guess  who  was 
the  author  of  it,  but  that  I  thought  it  pretty  clever. 
With  a  certain  side  of  both  clergy  and  laity,  it  met 
with  a  roar  of  applause.  "Holy  Willie's  Prayer" 
next  made  its  appearance,  and  alarmed  the  kirk-session 
so  much,  that  they  held  three  several  meetings  to  look 
over  their  holy  artillery,  if  any  of  it  was  pointed 
against  profane  rhymers.  Unluckily  for  me  my  idle 
wanderings  led  me  on  another  side,  point-blank,  with- 
in reach  of  their  heaviest  metal.  This  is  the  unfortu- 
nate story  alluded  to  in  my  printed  poem,  "The  La- 
ment."* 'Twas  a  shocking  affair,  which  I  cannot  yet 
bear  to  recollect,  and  it  had  very  nearly  given  me  one 
or  two  of  the  principal  qualifications  for  a  place  among 
those  who  have  lost  the  chart,  and  mistaken  the  reck- 
oning, of  rationality.  I  gave  up  my  part  of  the  farm 
to  my  brother  ;  as  in  truth  it  was  only  nominally 
mine  (for  stock  I  had  none  to  embark  in  it),  and  made 
what  little  preparation  was  in  my  power  for  Jamaica. 
Before  leaving  my  native  country,  however,  I  resolved 
to  publish  my  poems.  I  weighed  my  productions  as 
impartially  as  in  my  power  ;  I  thought  they  had  merit ; 
and  'twas  a  delicious  idea  that  I  should  be  called  a' 
clever  fellow,  even  tho'  it  should  never  reach  my  ears 
— a  poor  negro-driver — or  perhaps  gone  to  the  world 
of  spirits,  a  victim  to  that  inhospitable  clime.  I  can 
truly  say,  that  paiivre  inconnu  as  I  then  was,  I  had 
pretty  nearly  as  high  an  idea  of  myself  and  my  works 


*See  page  279.     "The  Lament"  bewails  the  unfortunate  issue  of  his  amour 
with  Jean  Armour. — ^J.  H. 


348  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

as  I  have  at  this  moment.  It  was  ever  my  opinion 
that  the  great,  unhappy  mistakes  and  blunders,  both 
in  a  rational  and  religious  point  of  view,  of  which  we 
see  thousands  daily  guilty,  are  owing  to  their  ignorance 
or  mistaken  notions  of  themselves.  To  know  myself, 
had  been  all  along  my  constant  study.  I  weighed 
myself,  alone  ;  I  balanced  myself  with  others ;  I 
watched  every  means  of  information,  how  much  ground 
I  occupied  as  a  man  and  as  a  poet ;  I  studied  assidu- 
ously Nature's  design,  where  she  seemed  to  have  in- 
tended the  various  lights  and  shades  in  my  character. 
I  was  pretty  sure  my  poems  would  meet  with  some 
applause  ;  but  at  the  worst,  the  roar  of  the  Atlantic 
would  deafen  the  voice  of  Censure,  and  the  novelty  of 
West  Indian  scenes  would  make  me  forget  Neglect.* 
I  threw  off  six  hundred  copies,  of  which  I  had  got 
subscriptions  for  "about  three  hundred  and  fifty.  My 
vanity  was  highly  gratified  by  the  reception  I  met 
with  from  the  public  ;  besides  pocketing  (all  expenses 
deducted),  near  twenty  pounds.  This  last  came  very 
seasonably,  as  I  was  about  to  indent  myself,  for  want 
of  money  to  pay  my  freight.  So  soon  as  I  was  mas- 
ter of  nine  guineas,  the  price  of  wafting  me  to  the 
Torrid  Zone,  I  bespoke  a  passage  in  the  very  first  Ship 
that  was  to  sail,  for 

"  Hungry  ruin  had  me  in  the  wind." 

I  had  for  some  time  been  skulking  from  covert  to 
covert,  under  all  the  terrors  of  a  jail  ;  as  some  ill-ad- 
vised, ungrateful  people  f  had  uncoupled  the  merciless 
legal  pack  at  my  heels.  I  had  taken  the  last  farewell 
of    my    few    friends  ;    my  chest   was    on    the    road    to 


*  Compare  Bums'  justifiable  self-confidence  in  himself  as  expressed  here,  with 
■^is  real  modesty  when  comparing  himself  with  his  brother  (see  page  346). 
He  had  already  acquired  a  large  measure  of  the  much-desired  gift  of  self-knowl- 
edge— of  "  seeing  himself  as  others  saw  him." — J.  H. 

t  Jean  Armour's  parents. — J.  H. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  S49 

Greenock  ;  I  had  composed  a  song,  **The  gloomy 
night  is  gathering  fast,"  which  was  to  be  the  last 
effort  of  my  muse  in  Caledonia,  when  a  letter  from 
Dr.  Blacklock  to  a  friend  of  mine  *  overthrew  all  my 
schemes,  by  rousing  my  poetic  ambition.  The  Doctor 
belonged  to  a  class  of  critics  for  whose  applause  I  had 
not  even  dared  to  hope.  His  idea,  that  I  would  meet 
with  every  encouragement  for  a  second  edition,  fired 
me  so  much  that  away  I  posted  for  Edinburgh  with- 
out a  single  acquaintance  in  town,  or  a  single  letter 
of  recommendation  in  my  pocket.  The  baneful  star 
that  had  so  long  presided  in  my  Zenith,  for  once 
made  a  revolution  to  the  Nadir  ;  and  the  providential 
care  of  a  good  God  placed  me  under  the  patronage  of 
one  of  his  noblest  creatures,  the  Earl  of  Glencairn. 
' '  Oubliez   moi^  grand  Dieu^  si  jamais  je  P  oiiblie  ! ' ' 

I  need  relate  no  farther.  At  Edinburgh  I  was  in  a 
new  world  ;  I  mingled  among  many  classes  of  men, 
but  all  of  them  new  to  me,  and  I  was  all  attention  to 
' '  catch  the  manners  living  as  they  rise. ' ' 

You  can  now,  Sir,  form  a  pretty  near  guess  of  what 
sort  of  a  Wight  he  is,  whom  for  some  time  you  have 
honored  with  your  correspondence.  That  Whim  and 
Fancy,  keen  sensibility  and  riotous  passions,  may  still 
make  him  zig-zag  in  his  future  path  of  life,  is  very 
probable ;  but,  come  what  will,  I  shall  answer  for 
him — the  most  determinate  integrity  and  honor  [shall 
ever  be  his  guiding-stars  ;  ]  f  and  though  his  evil  star 
should  again  blaze  in  his  meridian  with  tenfold  more 
direful  influence,  he  may  reluctantly  tax  friendship 
with  pity,  but  no  more. 

My  most  respectful  compliments  to  Miss  Williams. 
The  very  elegant  and  friendly  letter  she  honored  me 
with   a   few  days  ago,   I   cannot  answer  at   present,  as 


*  The  Rev.  George  Lawrie  of  Loudon. — J.  H. 

t  The  words  within  brackets  are  not  in  the  MS.,  but  the  sentence  is  incomplete 
Without  them  or  some  words  of  similar  import.— J.  H. 


350  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

my  presence  is  required   at   Edinburgh   for  a  week  ot 
so,  and  I  set  off  to-morrow. 

I  enclose  you  "Holy  Willie"  for  the  sake  of  giving 
you  a  little  further  information  of  the  affair  than  Mr. 
Creech  could  do.  An  Elegy  I  composed  the  other  day 
on  Sir  James  H.  Blair,  if  time  allow,  I  will  transcribe. 
The  merit  is  just  mediocre. 

If  you  will  oblige  me  so  highly  and  do  me  so  much 
honor  as  now  and  then  to  drop  me  a  line,  please  direct 
to  me  at  Mauchline,  Ayrshire.  With  the  most  grate- 
ful respect,  I  have  the  honor  to  be.  Sir,  your  very 
humble  servant,  ^ 

RoBT.  Burns.  . 

Mauchline,  2nd  August,  1787. 

Direct  to  me  at  Mauchline,  Ayrshire. 


Edinburgh,  23r(f  September. 

Sir, — The  foregoing  letter  was  unluckily  forgot 
among  other  papers  at  Glasgow  on  my  way  to  Edin- 
burgh. Soon  after  I  came  to  Edinburgh  I  went  on  a 
tour  through  the  Highlands,  and  did  not  recover  the 
letter  till  my  return  to  town,  which  was  the  other  day. 
My  ideas,  picked  up  in  my  pilgrimage,  and  some 
rhymes  of  my  earlier  years,  I  shall  soon  be  at  leisure 
to  give  you  at  large — so  soon  as  I  hear  from  you 
whether  you  are  in  London.  I  am,  again.  Sir,  yours 
most  gratefully,  R.  Burns.* 

The  foregoing  letter  to  Dr.  Moore,  whicli  furnishes  such  a 
masterly  panoramic  view  of  the  writer's  early  life  down  to  his 
twenty-ninth    year,    although   abundantly   confirming    our    in-' 


*  Foot-note  by  Dr.  Currie,  1800.  "There  are  various  copies  of  this  letter  in  the 
author's  handwriting;  and  one  of  these,  evidently  corrected,  is  in  the  book  in 
which  he  copied  several  of  his  letters.  This  has  been  used  for  the  press,  Tpitb 
some  omissions,  and  one  slight  alteration  suggested  by  Gilbert  Bums." 


NOTES  TO  AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  351 

troductory  statement  that  without  such  a  self-portrayal  our 
knowledge  of  the  poet  must  be  incomplete,  is  yet  too  concise 
to  satisfy  the  thirst  for  every  detail  in  the  early  career  of  a  man 
in  whom  the  whole  world  feels  a  deep  and  growing  interest. 
We  shall  therefore,  before  presenting  the  reader  with  the  ear- 
liest known  specimen  of  the  author's  prose  composition,  retrace 
our  steps,  with  a  view  of  supplying  some  missing  links  in  the 
biographic  chain  of  events,  and  of  rendering  the  story  of  the 
bard's  earlier  years  as  complete  as  possible. 


A1.1.OWAY — Early  Nurture — John  Murdoch. 

The  record  of  the  poet's  birth  contained  in  the  session  books 
of  the  conjoined  parishes  of  Alloway  and  Ayr  is  as  follows  : — 

"  Robert  Bums,  lawful  son  of  William  Burns  in  Alloway,  and 
Agnes  Brown  his  spouse,  was  born  in  January  25th,  1759:  bap- 
tised by  Mr.  William  Dalrymple.  Witnesses,  John  Tennant  and 
James  Young."  * 

Dr.  Currie  narrates  that  the  future  poet  was  sent  "  In  his  sixth 
year  to  a  school  at  Alloway  Miln,  about  a  mile  distant  from  the 
cottage,  taught  by  a  person  named  Campbell  ;  but  this  teacher 
being  in  a  few  months  appointed  master  of  the  workhouse  at 
Ayr,  William  Burness,  in  conjunction  with  some  other  heads  of 
families,  engaged  John  Murdoch  in  his  stead."  The  latter  was  a 
promising  student,  about  eighteen  years  old,  when  in  May  1765, 
he  was  thus  incidentally  made  instrumental  in  training  the  mind 
of  Scotland's  rational  poet.  The  little  house  then  selected  for 
use  as  a  school  still  exi.sts  on  the  roadside,  directly  opposite  the 
cottage  in  which  his  celebrated  pupil  was  born.  "  In  that  cot- 
tage," wrote  IVIurdoch  in  1799,  "  of  which  I  myself  was  at  times 
an  inhabitant,  I  really  believe  there  dwelt  a  larger  portion  of  con- 
tent than  in  any  palace  in  Europe.  .  .  .  My  five  employers  under- 
took to  board  me  by  "turns,  and  to  make  up  a  certain  salary  at  the 
end  of  the  year,  provided  my  quarterly  payments  from  the  dif- 


*The  reader  will  observe  that  the  family  name  is  not  here  spelled  as  if  pro- 
nounced with  two  syllables,  but  is  in  the  form  into  which  the  poet  and  his 
brother  Gilbert  agreed  to  contract  it  in  April  17S6.  The  explanation  is  that  in 
Ayrshire  the  compressed  mode  had  been  established  by  familiar  usaRe,  while  in 
the  North,  the  olB  spelling  and  pronunciation  were  retained.  It  is  also  interest- 
ing  to  note  that  "John  Tennant,"  one  of  the  witnesses  of  the  poet's  baptism, 
was  an  early  Ayrshire  friend  of  William  Ihirness,  afterwards  known  as  "John 
Tennant  in  Glenconnor,"  of  which  fact  we  shall  aftenvards  adduce  proof.  The 
Rev.  William  Dalrymi)le  survived  to  know  Ihirns  as  a  distinguished  poet  and  to 
be  himself  a  »»bjcct  of  panegyric  in  his  verses. 


352  NOTES  TO  AUTOBIOGR^VPHY. 

ferent  pupils  did  not  amount  to  that  sum."  Murdoch  conducted 
this  little  school  for  nearly  two  years  and  a  half ;  but  consider- 
ably prior  to  the  close  of  that  engagement,  William  Burness  had 
removed  with  his  family  to  Mount  Oliphant,  above  two  miles 
south-eastward,  a  bleak  upland  fann  of  seventy  acres,  which  he 
leased  from  his  kind  employer  and  patron,  Provost  Ferguson. 


Mount  Oi^iphant — Parental  Training — Eari,y 
Hardships. 

The  date  of  the  lease,  (the  original  of  which  is  now  possessed 
by  Mr.  Gilbert  Burns,  of  Dublin)  is  1765  ;  but  the  family  did  not 
begin  to  reside  on  the  fann  till  Whitsunday  1766.  That  removal 
interrupted  the  progress  of  the  poet's  education  under  Murdoch, 
who  records  that,  in  consequence  of  the  distance,  the  boys  could 
not  attend  school  regularly.  Gilbert  adds  that  ' '  there  being  no 
school  near  us,  and  our  little  services  being  useful  on  the  farm, 
my  father  undertook  to  teach  us  arithmetic  in  the  winter  even- 
ings by  candle-light  ;  and  in  this  way  my  two  elder  sisters  got 
all  the  education  they  ever  received." 

Another  kind  of  education,  which  was  of  much  use  to  Bums  in 
afterlife,  and  to  which  he  makes  special  reference  in  the  Auto- 
biography, was  that  received  from  his  mother's  relative,  Betty 
Davidson,  who  lived  in  family  with  them,  and  who  assisted  in 
implanting  in  his  infantile  and  boyish  mind  the  latent  seeds  of 
poetr>'.  According  to  Mrs.  Begg's  remembrance,  Betty  endeav- 
ored to  requite  the  kindness  of  William  Burns  by  her  assiduity  in 
spinning,  carding,  and  doing  all  kinds  of  good  oflfices  that  were 
in  her  power,  and  she  was  a  great  favorite  with  the  children. 

"Nothing,"  says  Gilbert,  "could  be  more  retired  than  our 
general  manner  of  living  at  IMount  Oliphant  ;  we  rarel}'  saw  any- 
body' but  the  members  of  our  own  family.  There  were  no  boys  of 
our  own  age  or  near  it  in  the  neighborhood  ;  indeed  my  father 
was  for  some  time  almost  the  only  companion  we  had.  He  con- 
versed familiarly  on  all  subjects  with  us,  as  if  we  had  been  men, 
and  was  at  great  pains,  as  we  accompanied  him  in  the  labors  of 
the  farm,  to  lead  the  conversation  to  such  subjects,  as  might  tend 
to  increase  our  knowledge,  or  confirm  us  in  virtuous  habits."  The 
devoted  parent  borrowed  books  for  the  instruction  of  his  children, 
and  ' '  Robert  read  all  these  with  an  avidity  and  industry  scarcely 
to  be  equalled  ;  and  no  book  was  so  voluminous  as  to  slacken 
his  industry,  or  so  antiquated  as  to  damp  his  researches." 

During  a  summer  quarter  of  1772,  according  to  Gilbert's  narra- 


i  Iroiu  L  -Uiu  ^-d'-  .  Ol-tujc'; 


THE  BIRTHPLACE  OF  BURNS. 


NOTES  TO   AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  353 

tive,  Robert  and  he  were  sent  "  week  about  "  to  the  parish  school 
of  Dalrymple,  distant  about  three  miles,  to  improve  their  hand- 
writing. One  of  Robert's  school  exercises  there — eight  lines  of 
verse  on  the  value  of  Religion — he  retained  throughout  life  and 
loved  to  quote  to  serious  correspondents.  It  was  there  also  that 
he  formed  the  acquaintanceship  of  James  Candlish,  who  after- 
wards married  the  wittiest  of  the  "  Mauchline  Belles,"  became  a 
distinguished  lecturer  on  Medicine  in  Edinburgh,  and  the  father 
of  a  still  more  distinguished  son — the  late  Principal  Candlish 
of  the  Free  Church  College,  Edinburgh. 

Meanwhile,  in  this  same  year  (1772),  the  poet's  early  tutor,  John 
Murdoch,  was  appointed  to  succeed  David  Tennant  as  teacher  of 
the  English  School  at  Ayr.  "  This  was,"  wrote  Gilbert,  "a  cir- 
cumstance of  considerable  importance  to  us  ;  the  remembrance  of 
my  father's  former  friendship,  and  his  attachment  to  my  brother, 
made  him  do  everything  in  his  power  for  our  improvement." 
In  particular,  Robert  went  to  Ayr  a  little  before  the  harvest 
season  of  1773,  and  lodged  with  Murdoch  during  a  few  weeks,  for 
the  purpose  of  revising  English  Grammar,  &c.,  "  that  he  might 
be  the  better  qualified  to  instruct  his  brothers  and  sisters  at 
home."  A  week's  study  suiBced  to  make  him  master  of  the 
parts  of  speech,  and  the  remaining  portion  of  that  visit  was 
spent  in  acquiring  a  pretty  general  knowledge  of  the  French 
language.  This  worthy  schoolmaster,  who  had  so  materially  con- 
tributed towards  the  proper  cultivation  of  his  distinguished  pupil's 
mind,  thus  modestly  concludes  his  description  of  the  manly  quali- 
ties and  Christian  virtues  of  William  Burness  : — "Although  I 
cannot  do  justice  to  the  character  of  this  worthy  man,  yet  you 
will  perceive  from  these  few  particulars  what  kind  of  person  had 
the  principal  part  in  the  education  of  the  Poet.  He  spoke  the  Eng- 
lish language  with  more  propriety,  both  with  respect  to  diction 
and  pronunciation,  than  any  man  I  ever  knew,  with  no  great ei 
advantages :  this  had  a  very  good  effect  on  the  boys,  who  began 
to  talk  and  reason  like  men  much  sooner  than  their  neighbors." 

It  must  have  been  about  this  period  that  the  venerated  parent 
compiled  for  the  use  of  his  children  a  little  manual  of  religious 
belief  in  the  form  of  a  dialogue  between  a  father  and  his  son. 
That  document,  carefully  transcribed  in  the  hand-writing  of  John 
Murdoch,  is  now  in  the  po.ssession  of  Mr.  Gilbert  Burns  of 
Dublin,*  who  also  is  custodier  of  the  "big  Ha'-Bible  "  which 
belonged  to  William  Burness,  containing  on  one  of  its  fly  leaves 
the  following  Family  Register  entered  by  his  own  hand  :— 

*  This  interesting  relic  was  first  printed  at  Kilmarnock,  1875,  and  we  here  give 
an  accurate  reprint  of  it.     Notwithstanding  Mr.  Murdock's  high  testimony  to  the 

W 


354  NOTES   TO   AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

"William  Bumess  was  bom,   nth  November  1721. 
Agues   Brown   was   born,    I7tli    March  1732.     Married   together, 

15th  December  1757. 
Had  a  son  Robert,  25th  January  1759. 
Had  a  son  Gilbert,  28th  September  1760. 
Had  a  daughter  Agnes,  30th  September  1762. 
Had  a  daughter  Annabella,  14th  November  1764. 

character  and  attainments  of  William  Bumess,  no  one  who  reads  the  two  letters 
following  this  "  Dialogue"  will  be  inclined  to  believe  that  the  latter  is  the  worthy 
man's  unaided  production.  Murdoch,  we  know,  transcribed  the  copy  gpiven  him 
by  Mr.  Bumess  and  made  the  necessary  granimatical  corrections  on  it.  It  is 
almost  certain  he  did  more  for  it  than  this,  for  it  is  scarcely  credible  that  the 
writer  of  the  meagre  letter  to  James  Bumess,  Montrose,  could,  without  a.ssistance, 
produce  such  a  coherent  and  logical  compendium  as  this  manual.  Murdoch  was 
a  resident  in  the  family  at  the  date  of  its  compilation,  a^id  there  can  be  little 
doubt  he  helped  his  friend  to  put  his  ideas  into  shape.  Whether  these  ideas 
were  original  or  borrowed,  more  or  less,  from  some  other  manual  of  the  same 
kind,  or  whether  they  were  developed  and  formulated  in  the  course  of  conversa- 
tions and  discussions  with  Murdoch,  it  is  now  impossible  to  say. 

One  thing  is  clear  William  Bumess  was  not  satisfied  with  the  rigid  Calvinism 
inculcated  in  "The  Shorter  Catechism  of  the  Westminster  Assembly  of  Divines." 
This  compendium  of  sound  doctrine  was  taught  to  every  Presbyterian  child 
attending  school  in  Scotland,  and,  when  parents  did  not  object,  to  non-presbyte- 
rian  youngsters  as  well.  Besides,  every  decent  head  of  a  house  examined 
("tairged")  his  children,  and  household  generally,  on  the  Westminster  Cate- 
chism ("carritch")  each  Sunday  evening.  That  Bums'  father  was  in  the  habit 
of  doing  .so  we  learn  from  the  poet's  "  Letter  to  Gavin  Hamilton  "  (Vol.  i.  p.  2S5). 
Kvidently  this  matiual— whether  compiled  by  William  Bumess  himself  or  simply 
in  accordance  with  his  wishes  and  suggestions — was  prepared  with  the  view  of 
mitigating  to  his  children  the  rigid  Calvinism  of  the  orthodox  Catechism,  and 
after  readitig  it  we  can  the  more  easily  understand  how  Robert  should  have  from 
the  first,  showed  a  leaning  towards  the  "New  Light." — J.  H. 

A  M.\Nu.\L  OF  Religious  Belief,  in  form  of  a  Dialogue  between 
Father  and  Son. 

Compiled  by  ll'''m.  Bumess,  farmer  at  ATount  Oliphant,  Ayrshire,  and  Iran- 
scribed,  with  grammatical  corrections,  by  John  Murdoch,  Teacher. 

Son.  Dear  Father,  you  have  often  told  me,  while  you  were  initiating  me  into 
the  Christian  Religion,  that  you  stood  bound  for  me,  to  give  me  a  Christian  edu- 
cation, and  recommended  a  religious  life  to  me.  I  would  therefore,  if  you  please, 
ask  you  a  few  questions  that  may  tend  to  confirm  my  faith,  and  clear  its  evi- 
dence to  me. 

Father.  My  Dear  Child,  with  gladness  I  will  resolve  to  you  (so  far  as  I  am 
able),  any  question  you  shall  ask,  only  with  this  caution,  that  you  will  believe 
my  answers,  if  they  are  founded  in  the  Word  of  God. 

Question.  How  shall  I  evidence  to  myself  that  there  is  a  God? 

Ans7fer.  By  the  works  of  creation  :  for  nothing  can  make  itself;  and  this  fabric 
of  Nature  demonstrates  its  Creator  to  be  possessed  of  all  possible  perfection,  and 
for  that  cause  we  owe  all  that  we  have  to  Him. 

Question.  If  God  be  possessed  of  all  possible  perfection,  ought  not  we  then  to 
love  Him  as  well  as  fear  Him? 

Answer.  Yes;  we  ought  to  serve  Ilim  out  of  love,  for  His  perfections  give  us 
delightful  prospects  of  His  favor  and  friendship,  for  if  we  serve  Him  out  of  love, 


NOTES  TO  AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  ^  355 

Had  a  son  William,  30th  July  1767. 

Had  a  son  John,  loth  July  1769. 

Had  a  daughter  Isbal,  27th  June  1771." 

At  tte  Martinmas  following  the  birth  of  Isabella,  the  young-, 
est  child  of  the  family,  the  first  break  in  the  lease  of  Mount 


We  will  endeavor  to  be  like  Him,  and  God  will  love  His  own  image,  and  if  God 
love  us,  He  will  rejoice  over  us  and  do  us  good. 

Question.  Then  one  would  think  this  were  sufficient  to  determine  all  men  to 
love  God ;  but  how  shall  we  account  for  so  much  wickedness  in  the  world  ? 

Answer.  God's  Revealed  Word  teaches  us  that  our  first  parents  brake  His 
Covenant,  and  deprived  us  of  the  influences  of  His  Grace  that  were  to  be  expected 
in  that  state,  and  introduced  Sin  into  the  world  ;  and  the  Devil,  that  great  enemy 
of  God  and  man,  laying  hold  on  this  instrument,  his  kingdom  has  made  great 
progress  in  the  world. 

Question.  But  has  God  left  His  own  rational  offspring  thus,  to  the  tyranny  ^f 
His  and  their  enemy  ? 

Answer.  No:  for  God  hath  addressed  His  rational  creatures,  by  telling  them  in 
His  Revealed  Word,  that  the  seed  of  the  woman  should  bruise  the  head  of  the 
Serpent,  or  Devil,  or  in  time  destroy  his  kingdom  ;  and  in  the  meantime,  every 
one  oppressed  with  the  tyranny  of  the  Devil,  should,  through  the  promised  seed, 
by  faith  in  Him,  and  humble  supplication,  and  a  strenuous  use  of  their  own 
faculties,  receive  such  measures  of  Grace,  in  and  through  the  method  of  God's 
conveyance,  as  should  make  them  able  to  overcome. 

Question.  But  by  what  shall  I  know  that  this  is  a  revelation  of  God,  and  not  a 
cunningly  devised  fable  ? 

Ans'wer.  A  revelation  of  God  must  have  these  four  marks,  i.  It  must  be 
worthy  of  God  to  reveal ;  2.  It  must  answer  all  the  necessities  of  human  nature ; 
3.  It  must  be  sufficiently  attested  by  miracles  ;  and  4.  It  is  known  by  prophecie? 
and  their  fulfilment.  That  it  is  worthy  of  God  is  plain,  by  its  addressing  itself  to 
the  reason  of  men,  and  plainly  laying  before  them  the  dangers  to  which  they  are 
liable,  with  motives  and  arguments  to  persuade  them  to  their  duty,  and  promis- 
ing such  rewards  as  are  fitted  to  promote  the  happiness  of  a  rational  soul. 
Secondly,  it  provides  for  the  guilt  of  human  nature,  making  an  atonement  by 
a  Mediator ;  and  for  its  weakness  by  promising  the  assistance  of  God's  Spirit ; 
and  for  its  happiness,  by  promising  a  composure  of  mind,  by  the  regulation  of  its 
faculties,  and  reducing  the  appetites  and  passions  of  the  body  unto  the  subjec- 
tion of  reason  enlightened  by  the  Word  of  God,  and  by  a  resurrection  of  the  body, 
and  a  glorification  of  both  soul  and  body  in  heaven,  and  that  to  last  through  all 
eternity.  Thirdly,  as  a  miracle  is  a  contradiction  of  known  laws  of  Nature, 
demonstrating  that  the  worker  has  the  power  of  Nature  in  his  hands,  and  con- 
.sequently  must  be  God,  or  sent  by  His  commission  and  authority  from  Him,  to 
do  such  and  such  things.  That  this  is  the  case  in  our  Scriptures  is  evident  both 
by  the  prophets,  under  the  Old,  and  our  Saviour  under  the  New  Testament. 
Whenever  it  served  for  the  glory  of  God,  or  for  the  confirmation  of  their  com- 
missions, all  Nature  was  obedient  to  them  ;  the  elements  were  at  their  command, 
also  the  sun  and  moon,  yea,  Life  and  Death.  Fourthly,  that  prophecies  were 
fulfilled  at  the  distance  of  many  hundreds  of  years  is  evident  by  comparing  the 
following  texts  of  Scripture  :— Gen.  xlix.  10,  11  ;  Matt.  xxi.  5  ;  Isa.  vii.  14;  Matt.  i. 
22,  23  ;  Luke  i.  34;  Isa.  xl.  i  ;  Matt.  iii.  3  ;  Mark  i.  3  ;  Luke  iii.  4  ;  John  i.  23  ;  Isa. 
xlii.  I,  2,  3,  4.  A  description  of  the  character  of  Messiah  in  the  Old  Testament 
Scriptures  is  fulfilled  in  all  the  Evangelists.  In  Lsa.  1.  5,  His  suffi:rings  are  pro- 
phesied, and  exactly  fulfilled  in  the  New  Te.stament,  Matt.  xxvi.  67,  and  xxvii.  26  ; 
and  many  others,  as  that  Abraham's  seed  should  be  strangers  in  a  strange  laud, 


856  '  NOTES  TO   AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Oliphant  occurred.  Gilbert  has  recorded  that  by  a  stipulation  in 
the  lease,  his  father  had  a  right  to  throw  it  up,  if  he  thought 
proper,  at  the  end  of  every  sixth  year.  He  attempted  to  fix  him- 
self in  a  better  farm  at  the  end  of  the  first  six  years,  but  failing 
in  that  attempt,  he  continued  where  he  v/as  for  six  years  more. 
Bums  himself,  immediately  after  referring  to  his  three  weeks' 

four  hundred  years,  and  being  brought  to  Canaan,  and  its  accomplishment  in  the 
days  of  Joseph,  Moses,  and  Joshua. 

Question.  Seeing  the  Scriptures  are  proven  to  be  a  revelation  of  God  to  Hif 
creatures,  am  I  not  indispensably  bound  lo  believe  and  obey  them  ? 

Ans2uer.  Yes. 

Question.  Am  I  equally  bound  to  obey  all  the  laws  delivered  to  Moses  upon 
Mount  Sinai  ? 

Ansit'er.  No  :  the  laws  delivered  to  Moses  are  of  three  kinds  :  first,  the  Moral 
I,aw,  which  is  of  eternal  and  indispensable  obligation  on  all  ages  and  nations ; 
Secondly,  the  law  of  Sacrifices  and  ordinances  were  only  Ordinances  in  which 
were  couched  types  and  shadows  of  things  to  come,  and  when  that  dispensation 
was  at  an  end,  this  law  ended  with  them,  for  Christ  is  the  end  of  the  law  for 
righteousness  ;  Thirdly,  laws  that  respected  the  Jewish  commonwealth  can  neither 
be  binding  on  us,  who  are  not  of  that  commonwealth,  nor  on  the  Jews,  because 
their  commonwealth  is  at  an  end. 

Question.  If  the  Moral  Law  be  of  indispensable  obligation,  I  become  bound  to 
perfect  and  perpetual  obedience,  of  which  I  am  incapable,  and  on  that  account 
cannot  hope  to  be  justified  and  accepted  with  God. 

Ansiver.  The  Moral  Law  as  a  rule  of  life,  must  be  of  indispensable  obligation, 
but  it  is  the  glory  of  the  Christian  religion,  that  if  we  be  upright  in  our  endeavors 
to  follow  it  and  sincere  in  our  repentance,  upon  our  failing  or  shortening,  we 
shall  be  accepted  according  to  what  we  have,  and  shall  increase  in  our  strength, 
by  the  assistance  of  the  Spirit  of  God  co-operating  with  our  honest  endeavors. 

Question.  Seeing  the  assistance  of  the  Spirit  of  God  is  absolutely  necessary  for 
salvation,  hath  not  God  clearly  revealed  by  what  means  we  may  obtain  this  great 
blessing  ? 

Anstver.  Yes:  the  Scriptures  tell  us  that  the  Spirit  of  God  is  the  purchase  of 
Christ's  mediatorial  office  ;  and  through  faith  in  Him,  and  our  humble  prayers 
to  God  through  Christ,  we  shall  receive  such  measures  thereof  as  shall  answer 
our  wants. 

Question.  What  do  you  understand  by  Faith? 

Ans7cjer.  Faith  is  a  firm  persuasion  of  the  Divine  mission  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  that  He  is  made  unto  us  of  God,  wisdom,  righteousness,  and  complete 
redemption  ;  or  as  He  is  represented  to  us  under  the  notion  of  a  root,  and  we  the 
branches,  deriving  all  from  Him  ;  or  as  the  head,  and  we  the  members  of  His 
body  ;  intimating  to  us  that  this  is  the  way  or  channel  through  which  God  con- 
veys His  blessings  to  us,  and  we  are  not  to  expect  them  but  in  God's  own  way.  It  is 
therefore  a  matter  of  consequence  to  us,  and  therefore  we  ought  with  diligence  to 
search  the  Scriptures,  had  the  extent  of  His  commission,  or  what  they  declare  Him 
to  be,  and  to  receive  Him  accordingly,  and  to  acquiesce  in  God's  plan  of  salva- 
tion. 

Question.  By  what  shall  I  know  that  Jesus  Christ  is  really  the  person  that  was 
prophesied  of  in  the  Old  Testament ;  or  that  He  was  that  seed  of  the  woman 
that  was  to  destroy  the  kingdom  of  Sin  ? 

Answer.  Besides  the  Scriptures  fore-cited,  which  fully  prove  Him  to  be  that 
blessed  person,  Christ  did  many  miracles  :  He  healed  the  sick,  gave  sight  to  the 
blind,  made  the  lame  to  walk,  raised  the  dead,  and  fed  thousands  with  a  few 
loaves,  &c.    He  foretold  His  own  death  and  resurrection,  and  the  wonderful  pro 


NOTES  TO   AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  357 

abode  with  Murdoch  in  1772,  at  the  Ayr  Grammar  School,  and  his 
distress  at  parting  with  some  of  his  fellow-pupils  of  superior  rank 
in  life,  as  they  occasionally  went  off  for  the  East  or  West  Indies, 
adds — "But  I  was  soon  called  to  more  serious  evils  ;  my  father's 
generous  master  died  ;  the  farm  proved  a  ruinous  bargain  ;  and,  to 
clench  the  curse,  we  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  factor,"  &c.     Gilbert 

gress  of  His  religion,  in  spite  of  all  the  power  of  the  Roman  Empire— and  that, 
by  means  of  His  disciples,  a  few  poor  illiterate  fishermen. 

Question.  You  speak  of  repentance  as  absolutely  necessary  to  salvation — I  would 
like  to  know  what  you  mean  by  repentance  ? 

Answer.  I  not  only  mean  a  sorrowing  for  sin,  but  a  laboring  to  see  the  malig- 
nant nature  of  it ;  as  setting  nature  at  variance  with  herself,  by  placing  the  ani- 
mal part  before  the  rational,  and  thereby  putting  ourselves  on  a  level  with  the 
brute  beasts,  the  consequence  of  which  will  be  an  intestine  war  in  the  human 
frame,  until  the  rational  part  be  entirely  weakened,  which  is  Spiritual  Death,  and 
which  in  the  nature  of  the  thing  renders  us  unfit  for  the  society  of  God's  spirit- 
ual kingdom,  and  to  see  the  beauty  of  holiness.  On  the  contrarj',  setting  the 
rational  part  above  the  animal,  though  it  promote  a  war  in  the  human  frame, 
every  conflict  and  victory  affords  us  grateful  reflection,  and  tends  to  compo.se  the 
mind  more  and  more,  not  to  the  utter  destruction  of  the  animal  part,  but  to  the 
real  and  true  enjoyment  of  both,  by  placing  Nature  in  the  order  that  its  Creator 
designed  it,  which,  in  the  natural  consequences  of  the  thing,  promotes  Spiritual 
Life,  and  renders  us  more  and  more  fit  for  Christ's  spiritual  kingdom  ;  and  not 
only  so,  but  gives  to  animal  life  pleasure  and  joy  that  we  never  could  have  had 
without  it. 

Question.  I  should  be  glad  to  hear  you  at  large  upon  religion,  gfiving  pleasure 
to  animal  life ;  for  it  is  represented  as  taking  up  our  cross  and  following 
"Christ." 

Answer.  Our  Lord  honestly  told  His  di.sciples  of  their  danger,  and  what  they 
were  to  expect  by  being  His  followers,  that  the  world  would  hate  them,  and  for 
this  reason,  because  they  were  not  of  the  world,  even  as  He  al.so  was  not  of  the 
world  ;  but  He  gives  them  sufficient  comfort,  showing  that  He  had  overcome  the 
world  :  as  if  He  had  said,  "  you  must  arm  yourself  with  a  resolution  to  fight,  for 
if  you  be  resolved  to  be  My  disciples,  you  expose  the  world,  by  setting  their  folly 
in  its  true  light,  and  therefore  every  one  who  is  not  brought  over  by  your  exam- 
ple, will  hate  and  oppose  you  as  it  hath  Me  ;  but  as  it  hath  had  no  advantage 
against  Me,  and  I  have  overcome  it,  if  you  continue  the  conflict,  you,  by  My 
strength,  shall  overcome  likewise ;  "  so  that  this  declaration  of  our  Lord  cannot 
damp  the  pleasures  of  life  when  rightly  considered,  but  rather  enlarges  them. 
The  .same  revelation  tells  us,  that  a  religious  life  hath  the  promise  of  the  life  that 
now  is,  and  that  which  is  to  come  ;  and  not  only  by  the  well  regulated  mind  de- 
scribed in  my  last  answer,  as  tending  to  give  pleasure  and  quiet,  but  by  n  firm 
trust  in  the  providence  of  Ood,  and  by  the  help  of  an  honest  calling  industriously 
pursued,  we  shall  receive  such  a  portion  of  the  comfortable  things  of  this  life  as 
shall  be  fittest  for  promoting  our  eternal  interest,  and  that  under  the  direolioii 
of  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness  ;  and  that  we  shall  overcome  nil  our  difficulties 
by  being  under  the  protection  of  infinite  power.  These  considerntioiis  cnniift 
fail  to  give  a  relish  to  all  the  pleasures  of  life.  Resides  the  very  nature  of  the 
thing  giving  pleasure  to  a  mind  so  regular  as  I  have  already  described,  it  must 
exalt  the  mind  above  those  irregular  passions  that  jar  and  are  contrnr>'  one  to 
another,  and  distract  the  mind  by  contrary  pursuits,  which  is  describeil  ky  the 
Apostle  with  more  strength  in  his  ICpistlc  to  the  Koinnns  (Chap,  i.,  from  ,'r>  to  the 
end)  than  any  words  I  am  capable  of  framing  ;  especially  if  wc  take  our  Lord's 
explanation  of  the  parable  of  the  tares  in  the  field  as  an  improvement  of  thc«e 


358  NOTES   TO   AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

also,  in  his  narrative  sa3-s — "'My  father  in  consequence  of  the 
v\Tetched  soil,  soon  came  into  difficulties,  which  were  increased  by 
the  loss  of  several  of  his  cattle  by  accidents  and  disease.  To  the 
buffetings  of  misfortune  we  could  only  oppose  hard  labor  and  the 
most  rigid  economy'.  M}-  brother,  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  assisted 
in  threshing  the  crop  of  corn,  and  at  fifteen  was  the  principal 

doctrines,  as  it  is  in  Matt,  xiii.,  from  the  37  to  44  verse ;  and  Rev.  xx.,  from  verse 
II  to  the  end.  If  the.se  Scriptures,  seriously  considered,  can  suffer  any  man  to  be 
easy,  judge  ye,  and  they  will  remain  truth,  whether  believed  or  not.  Whereas, 
on  a  mind  regular,  and  having  the  animal  part  under  subjection  to  the  rational, 
in  the  very  nature  of  the  thing  gives  uniformity  of  pursuits.  The  desires,  rectified 
by  the  Word  of  God,  must  g^ve  clearness  of  judgment,  soundness  of  mind,  regu- 
lar affections,  whence  will  flow  peace  of  conscience,  good  hope,  through  grace, 
that  all  our  interests  are  under  the  care  of  our  Heavenly  Father.  This  gives  a 
relish  to  animal  life  itself,  this  joy  that  no  man  intermeddleth  with,  and  which 
is  peculiar  to  a  Christian  or  holy  life ;  and  its  comforts  and  blessings  the  whole 
Scripture  is  a  comment  upon,  especially  our  Lord's  sermon  upon  the  Mount, 
Matt,  v.,  1 — 13,  and  its  progress  iu  the  parable  of  the  Sower  in  the  thirteenth  of 
Matthew. 

Copies  of  existing  letters  penned  by  William  Bumess,  father  of  the  Poet. 

To  Mr.  Thomas  Oare,  at  Park,  near  Kirkoswald. 

{From  facsimile  in  "  Manual,"  iS^j.) 

Thomas,* — Wee  propose  to  begin  to  shear  wheat  on  monday  come  eight  days, 
being  18  of  September,  and  wee  expect  [you]  here  on  Saturday,  because  wee  will 
begin  on  mouday  morning.    1  am,  yours,  &c., 

William  Burness. 

Lochlca,  8  Sept.  17S0. 

To  Mr.  James  Burness,  Montrose.! 
{Douglas,  1877.) 

Dear  Nephew, — I  received  your  affectionate  letter  by  the  bearer,  who  came  5 
miles  with  it  to  my  house.  I  received  [it]  with  the  same  warmth  you  wrott  it, 
and  I  am  extremely  glad  you  express  yourself  with  so  warm  regard  for  your 
parents  and  friends.  I  wish  much  Joy  in  your  wife  and  child,  t  I  should  have 
been  glad  had  you  sent  me  their  names,  with  the  name  of  your  brother-in-law. 

I  have  a  family  of  four  sons  and  three  douthers  :  two  of  my  sons  and  two  of 
my  douthers  are  men  and  women,  and  all  with  me  in  the  farmway  :  I  have  the 
happiness  to  hope  they  are  virtuously  inclined  ;  my  youngest  douther  is  ten  years 


*  See  the  Poet's  letter  to  this  individual,  at  page  380. 

t  The  holograph  of  this  letter  is  in  the  Poet's  monument  at  Edinburgh.  The 
reader  will  observe  the  peculiar  spelling  of  the  word  "daughter"  which  occurs 
five  times  in  this  letter  :  the  first  of  these  is  exactly  as  in  our  print ;  but  the  four 
that  follow  bear  marks  of  clumsy  erasure,  and  a  blotted  attempt  at  correction 
into  proper  spelling.  This  would  likely  be  done  by  Gilbert  or  one  of  his  sisters 
in  a  revisal  before  despatching  the  document. 

X  The  reference  here  is  to  the  birth  of  James  Bumess,  afterwards  provost  of 
Montrose — Bom  April  ist.  1780,  Died  February  15th.  1852.  The  correspondent 
addressed  in  the  above  letter  was  bom  in  1750  and  died  in  1837.  His  wife  was 
Ajine  Greig,  whom  he  married  in  1777. 


NOTES  TO  AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  359 

laborer  on  the  farm,  for  we  had  no  hired  servant,  male  or  female. 
The  anguish  of  mind  we  felt  at  our  tender  years,  under  the  straits 
and  difficulties,  was  very  great.  I  doubt  not  but  the  hard  labor 
and  sorrow  of  this  period  of  his  life  was  in  a  great  measure  the 
cause  of  that  depression  of  spirits  with  which  Robert  was  so 
often  afflicted  through  his  whole  life  afterwards." 

The  author's  poetical  productions  of  his  juvenile  5'ears,  from 
1773  to  1777,  will  be  found  in  this  Volume,  pp.  i  to  11. 

Removal  to  Lochlea  in  Tarboi^ton  Parish. 

The  lease  of  this  farm  extended  from  Whitsunday  1777  to  Whit- 
sunday 1784.  "For  four  years  we  lived  comfortably  here,"  the 
poet  writes,  "but  a  lawsuit  commencing,"  &c.  Gilbert,  in  his 
narrative,  thus  remarks  : — "  These  seven  5^ears  were  not  marked 
by  much  literary  improvement ;  but  during  this  time,  the  founda- 
tion was  laid  of  certain  habits  in  my  brother's  character  which 
afterwards  became  but  too  prominent,  and  which  malice  and  envy 
have  taken  delight  to  enlarge  on.  Though,  when  young,  he  was 
bashful  and  awkward  in  his  intercourse  with  women,  yet  when  he 
approached  manhood,  his  attachment  to  their  society  became  very 
strong,  and  he  was  constantly  the  victim  of  some  fair  enslaver. 
As  these  connections  were  governed  by  the  strictest  rules  of  virtue 
and  modesty  (from  which  he  never  deviated  till  he  reached  his 
23rd  5^ear),  he  became  anxious  to  be  in  a  situation  to  marry.  This 
was  not  likely  to  be  the  case  while  he  remained  a  farmer,  as  the 
stocking  of  a  farm  required  a  sum  of  money  he  had  no  probability 
of  being  master  of  for  a  great  while  ;  he  began  therefore  to  think 
of  trying  some  other  line  of  life." 

The  foregoing  biographical  notes  bring  the  reader  down  to  the 
year  1780,  at  which  date  the  author's  correspondence  begins.  Dr. 
Currie's  first  edition  includes  four  letters  addressed  to  "  My  dear 
E.,"  which  we  are  now  to  present.  They  were  not  printed  from 
the  original,  but  from  scroll  copies  found  among  the  poet's  manu- 
scripts. We  begin  the  correspondence  with  what  appears  to  be 
the  very  earliest  example  extant  of  Burns' s  letter- writing.  The 
holograph  original  is  in  the  possession  of  John  Adam,  Esqr., 


of  age  :  my  eldest  son  is  named  Robert ;  the  second  Gilbert ;  the  third  William ; 
the  fourth  John ;  my  eldest  douther  is  named  Agnes ;  the  second  Anna  Bela ;  the 
third  Isbal. 

My  Brother  lives  at  Stewarton,  by  Kilmarnock;  he  hath  two  sons  and  one 
douther,  named  John,  William,  and  Fanny  ;  their  circumstances  are  very  indifferent. 

I  shall  be  happy  to  hear  from  you  when  it  is  convenient,  when  I  shall  writt 
to  you  from  time  to  time.  Please  give  my  respects  to  your  Brother  and  Sister 
in  the  kindest  manner,  and  to  your  Wife,  which  will  greatly  oblige  your  affec- 
tionate Uncle, 

Lochlea,  14  April  1781.  William  Burness. 


360  CORRESPONDENCE.  [1780. 

Greenock,  Scotland.     It  forms  number  one  of  the  scries  of  letters 
toE.  B.,  of  date  1780-81. 

Lockhart  makes  the  remark  concerning  these  early  love  letters 
— "  They  are  omitted  in  the  '  General  Correspondence  '  of  Gilbert's 
edition,  for  what  reason  I  know  not,  for  thej^  are  surely  as  well 
worth  preserving  as  man}'  in  the  collection,  particularly  when 
their  early  date  is  considered.  In  such  excellent  English  did 
Bums  woo  his  country  maidens  in  at  most  his  twent3'-second 
year."  Robert  Chambers  says: — "The  earliest  specimens  of 
Bums's  prose  composition  which  we  possess  are  a  series  of  letters 
to  Ellison  Begbie,  most  of  them  probably  written  in  the  winter  of 
1780-81 — slightly  pedantic  in  manner,  as  might  be  expected  of  a 
young  genius  still  walking  by  the  light  of  "A  Vade-mecum  of 
Epistolar}'  Correspondence,"  and  striving  to  educate  his  mind  in 
a  debating  club,  jet  wonderful  as  emanating  from  a  youth  in  such 
a  situation,  and  as  addressed  to  a  rustic  serving  girl." 


0  TO  ELLISON,  OR  ALISON  BEGBIE.  (?)  * 
(Douglass,  1877.) 

What  }'ou  may  think  of  this  letter,  when  you  see 
the  name  that  subscribes  it,  I  cannot  know  ;  and  per- 
haps I  ought  to  make  a  long  preface  of  apologies  for 
the  freedom  I  am  going  to  take  ;  but  as  my  heart 
means  no  offence,  but  on  the  contrary  is  rather  too 
warmh'  interested  in  your  favor  ;  for  that  reason,  I  hope 
you  will  forgive  me  when  I  tell  }'ou  that  I  most  sin- 
cerely and  affectionately  love  you.     I  am  a  stranger  in 

these  matters,  A ,  as  I  assure  you  that  you  are  the 

first  woman  to  whom  I  ever  made  such  a  declaration  ; 
so  I  declare  I  am  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed. 

I  have  more  than  once  come  into  your  company  with 
a  resolution  to  say  what  I  have  just  now  told  you  ; 
but  my  resolution  always  failed  me,  and  even  now,  my 
heart  trembles  for  the  consequence  of  what  I  have  said. 

I  hope  my  dear  A you  will  not  despise  me  because 

I  am  ignorant  of  the  flattering  arts  of  courtship  :  I 
hope   my  experience  of  the  world  will   plead   for  me. 

*  See   poems  vol.  i,  page  20  to  26. 


ier.  22.]  EARLY  LOVE  LETTERS.  361 

I  can  only  say  I  sincerely  love  you,  and  there  is 
nothing  on  earth  I  so  ardently  wish  for,  or  could  pos- 
sibly give  me  so  much  happiness,  as  one  day  to  see 
you  mine. 

I  think  you  cannot  doubt  my  sincerity,  as  I  am 
sure  that  whenever  I  see  you,  my  very  looks  betray 
me  :  and  when  once  you  are  convinced  I  am  sincere, 
I  am  perfectly  certain  you  have  too  much  goodness 
and  humanity  to  allow  an  honest  man  to  languish  in 
suspense,  only  because  he  loves  you  too  well.  And, 
I  am  certain  that  in  such  a  state  of  anxiety,  as  I 
myself  at  present  feel,  an  absolute  denial  would  be 
a  much  preferable  state. 


0  TO  ElyLISON,   OR  ALISON   BEGBIE. 

(CuRRiE,  i8oo.) 

[LOCHI^EA,    1780.] 

My  Dear  E., — I  do  not  remember,  in  the  course  of 
your  acquaintance  and  mine,  ever  to  have  heard  your 
opinion  on  the  ordinary  way  of  falling  in  love,  amongst 
people  of  our  station  of  life  :  I  do  not  mean  the  per- 
sons who  proceed  in  the  way  of  bargain,  but  those 
whose  affection  is  really  placed  on  the  person. 

Though  I  be,  as  you  know  very  well,  but  a  very 
awkward  lover  myself,  yet  as  I  have  some  opportuni- 
ties of  observing  the  conduct  of  others  who  are  much 
better  skilled  in  the  affair  of  courtship  than  I  am,  I 
often  think  it  is  owing  to  lucky  chance  more  than  to 
good  management,  that  there  are  not  more  unhappy 
marriages  than  usually  are. 

It  is  natural  for  a  young  fellow  to  like  the  acquaint- 
ance of  the  females,  and  customary  for  him  to  keep 
their  company  when  occasion  serves  :  some  one  of  them 
is  more  agreeable  to  him  than  the  rest  ;  there 
is  something — he    knows    not   what — ^pleases    him — he 


,"'62  CORRESPONDENCE.  [1780. 

knows  not  how — in  her  company.  This  I  take  to  be 
what  is  called  T^ovc  with  the  greatest  part  of  lis,  and 
I  must  own,  my  dear  E. ,  it  is  a  hard  game  such  a 
one  as  you  have  to  play,  when  you  meet  with  such  a 
lover.  You  cannot  admit  but  he  is  sincere,  and  yet, 
though  you  use  him  ever  so  favorably,  perhaps  in  a 
few  months,  or  at  farthest  a  year  or  two,  the  same 
unaccountable  fancy  may  make  him  as  distractedly 
fond  of  another,  whilst  you  are  quite  forgot.  I  am 
aware  that  perhaps  the  next  time  I  have  the  pleasure 
of  seeing  you,  >ou  may  bid  me  take  my  own  lesson 
home,  and  tell  me  that  the  passion  I  have  professed 
for  you  is  perhaps  one  of  those  transient  flashes  I  have 
been  describing;  but  I  hope,  my  dear  E.,  you  will 
do  me  the  justice  to  believe  me,  when  I  assure  you, 
that  the  love  I  have  for  you  is  founded  on  the  sacred 
principles  of  Virtue  and  Honor  ;  and  by  consequence, 
so  long  as  you  continue  possessed  of  those  amiable 
qualities  which  first  inspired  my  passion  for  )ou,  so 
long  must  I  continue  to  love  you.  Believe  me,  my 
Dear,  it  is  love  like  this  alone  which  can  render  the 
married  state  happy.  People  may  talk  of  flames  and 
raptures  as  long  as  they  please  ;  and  a  warm  fancy, 
with  a  flow  of  youthful  spirits,  may  make  them  feel 
something  like  what  they  describe  ;  but  sure  I  am, 
the  nobler  faculties  of  the  mind,  with  kindred  feelings 
of  the  heart,  can  only  be  the  foimdation  of  friendship  ; 
and  it  has  always  been  my  opinion,  that  the  married 
life  is  only  Friendship  in  a  more  exalted  'legree. 

If  you  will  be  so  good  as  to  grant  my  wishes,  and 
it  should  please  Providence  to  .spare  us  to  the  latest 
periods  of  life,  I  can  look  forward  and  see,  that  even 
then,  though  bent  down  with  wrinkled  age  ;  even  then, 
when  all  other  worldly  circumstances  will  be  indiffer- 
ent to  me,  I  will  regard  my  E.,  with  the  tenderest 
affection  ;  and  for  this  plain  reason,  because  she  is 
still   possessed  of  those  noble  qualities,   improved  to  a 


MT.  22.]  EARlvY   LOVE  LETTERS.  363 

much  higher  degree,  which  first  inspired  my  affection 
for  her. 

"  O  happy  state,  when  souls  each  other  draw, 
Where  love  is  liberty,  and  nature  law." 

I  know,  were  I  to  speak  in  such  a  style  to  many  a 
girl  who  thinks  herself  possessed  of  no  small  share  oi 
sense,  she  would  think  it  ridiculous  ;  but  the  language 
of  the  heart  is — my  dear  E, — the  only  courtship  I  shall 
ever  use  to  you. 

When  I  look  over  what  I  have  written,  I  am  sensible 
it  is  vastly  different  from  the  ordinary  style  of  court- 
ship ;  but  I  shall  make  no  apology.  I  know  your  good 
nature  will  excuse  what  your  good  sense  may  see  amiss. 


Q)  TO  ELLISON,  OR  ALISON  BEGBIE. 

(CURRIE,    1800.) 

[LOCHI.EA,    1780.] 

I  VERILY  believe,  my  dear  E.,  that  the  pure,  genu- 
ine feelings  of  Love  are  as  rare  in  the  world  as  the 
pure,  genuine  principles  of  Virtue  and  Piety.  This  I 
hope  will  account  for  the  uncommon  style  of  all  my 
letters  to  you.  By  uncommon,  I  mean,  their  being 
written  in  such  a  serious  manner,  which,  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  has  made  me  often  afraid  lest  you  should 
take  me  for  some  zealous  bigot,  who  conversed  with 
his  mistress  as  he  would  converse  with  his  minister. 
I  don' t  know  how  it  is,  my  Dear  ;  for  though,  except 
your  company,  there  is  nothing  on  earth  gives  me  so 
much  pleasure  as  writing  to  you,  yet  it  never  gives 
me  those  giddy  raptures  so  much  talked  of  among 
lovers.  I  have  often  thought  that  if  a  well-grounded 
affection  be  not  really  a  part  of  virtue,  'tis  something 
extremely  akin  to  it.  Whenever  the  thought  of  my 
E.  warms  my  heart,  every  feeling  of  humanity,  every 


364  CORRESPONDENCE.  [178a 

principle  of  generosity,  kindles  in  my  breast.  It  ex- 
tinguishes every  dirty  spark  of  malice  and  envy, 
which  are  but  too  apt  to  infest  me.  I  grasp  every 
creature  in  the  arms  of  Universal  Benevolence,  and 
equally  participate  in  the  pleasures  of  the  happy,  and 
sympathize  with  the  miseries  of  the  unfortunate.  I 
assure  you,  my  Dear,  I  often  look  up  to  the  Divine 
disposer  of  events,  with  an  eye  of  gratitude  for  the 
blessing  which  I  hope  He  intends  to  bestow  on  me, 
in  bestowing  you.  I  sincerely  wish  that  He  may  bless 
my  endeavors  to  make  your  life  as  comfortable  and 
happy  as  possible,  both  in  sweetening  the  rougher 
parts  of  my  natural  temper,  and  bettering  the  unkindly 
circumstances  of  my  fortune.  This,  my  Dear,  is  a 
passion,  at  least  in  my  view,  worthy  of  a  man,  and  I 
will  add,  worthy  of  a  Christian.  The  sordid  earth- 
worm may  profess  love  to  a  woman's  person,  whilst  in 
reality  his  affection  is  centered  in  her  pocket  ;  and 
the  slavish  drudge  may  go  a-wooing  as  he  goes  to  the 
horse-market,  to  choose  one  who  is  stout  and  firm,  and 
as  we  may  say  of  an  old  horse,  one  who  will  be  a 
good  drudge  and  draw  kindly.  I  disdain  their  dirty, 
puny  ideas.  I  would  be  heartily  out  of  humor  with 
myself,  if  I  thought  I  were  capable  of  having  so  poor 
a  notion  of  the  Sex  which  were  designed  to  crown 
the  pleasures  of  society.  Poor  devils  !  I  don't  envy 
them  their  happiness  who  have  such  notions.  For  my 
part,    I  propose   quite   other   pleasures   with    my    deal 

partner. 

4:  4:  *  4:  * 


0  TO  ELLISON,  OR  ALISON  BEGBIE. 

(CURRIE,    iSoo.) 

[LOCHLEA,    1 781.] 

My  Dear  E. — I  have  often   thought   it  a  peculiarly 
unlucky  circumstance    in   love,   that    though    in    every 


<^T.  22.]  EARLY  LOVE  LETTERS.  366 

other  situation  in  life,  telling  the  truth  is  not  only 
the  safest,  but  actually  by  far  the  easiest  way  of  pro- 
ceeding, a  lyover  is  never  under  greater  difficulty  in 
acting,  or  more  puzzled  for  expression,  than  when  his 
passion  is  sincere,  and  his  intentions  are  honorable. 
I  do  not  think  that  it  is  very  difficult  for  a  person  of 
ordinary  capacity  to  talk  of  love  and  fondness,  which 
are  not  felt,  and  to  make  vows  of  constancy  and  fidel- 
ity which  are  never  intended  to  be  performed,  if  he 
be  villain  enough  to  practice  such  detestable  conduct : 
but  to  a  man  whose  heart  glows  with  the  principles 
of  integrity  and  truth,  and  who  sincerely  loves  a 
woman  of  amiable  person,  uncommon  refinement  of 
sentiment,  and  purity  of  manners — to  such  a  one,  in 
such  circumstances,  I  can  assure  you,  my  Dear,  from 
my  own  feelings  at  this  present  moment.  Courtship  is 
a  task  indeed.  There  is  such  a  number  of  foreboding 
fears,  and  distrustful  anxieties  crowd  into  my  mind 
when  I  am  in  your  company,  or  when  I  sit  down  to 
write  to  you,  that  what  to  speak  or  what  to  write  I 
am  altogether  at  a  loss. 

There  is  one  rule  which  I  have  hitherto  practised, 
and  which  I  shall  invariably  keep  with  you,  and  that 
is,  honestly  to  tell  you  the  plain  truth.  There  is 
something  so  mean  and  unmanly  in  the  arts  of  dissim- 
ulation and  falsehood,  that  I  am  surprised  they  can 
be  used  by  any  one  in  so  noble,  so  generous  a  pas- 
sion as  Virtuous  Love.  No,  my  dear  E.,  I  shall 
never  endeavor  to  gain  your  favor  by  such  detestable 
practices.  If  you  will  be  so  good  and  so  generous 
as  to  admit  me  for  your  partner,  your  companion,  your 
bosom  friend  through  life  ;  there  is  nothing  on  this 
side  of  eternity  shall  give  me  greater  transport  ;  but  I 
shall  never  think  of  purchasing  your  hand  by  any  arts 
unworthy  of  a  man,  and  I  will  add,  of  a  Christian. 
There  is  one  thing,  my  Dear,  which  I  earnestly  re- 
quest of  you,  and  it  is  this  ;  that  you  would  soon  either 


366  CORRESPONDENCE.  [1781, 

put  an  end   to  my  hopes  by  a  peremptory  refusal,  01 
cure  me  of  my  fears  by  a  generous  consent. 

It  would  oblige  me  much  if  you  would  send  me  a 
line  or  two  when  convenient.  I  shall  only  add  further, 
that  if  a  behavior  regulated  (though  perhaps  but  very 
imperfectly)  by  the  rules  of  Honor  and  Virtue^  if  a 
heart  devoted  to  love  and  esteem  you,  and  an  earnest 
endeavor  to  promote  your  happiness  ;  if  these  are 
qualities  you  would  wish  in  a  friend,  in  a  husband  ; 
I  hope  you  shall  ever  find  them  in  your  real  friend 
and  sincere  lover. 


0  TO  ELLISON,  OR  ALISON  BEGBIE. 

(CURRIE,    1800.) 

[LOCHLEA,    1 78 1.] 

I  OUGHT  in  good  manners  to  have  acknowledged  the 
receipt  of  your  letter  before  this  time,  but  my  heart 
was  so  shocked  with  the  contents  of  it,  that  I  can 
scarcely  yet  collect  my  thoughts  so  as  to  write  to  you 
on  the  subject,  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  what  I 
felt  on  receiving  your  letter.  I  read  it  over  and  over, 
again  and  again,  and  though  it  was  in  the  politest 
language  of  refusal,  still  it  was  peremptory  ;  '  you  were 
very  sorry  you  could  not  make  me  a  return,  but  you 
wish  me  '  what  without  you  I  never  can  obtain,  '  you 
wish  me  all  kind  of  happiness.'  It  would  be  weak 
and  unmanly  to  say  that  without  you  I  never  can  be 
happy  ;  but  sure  I  am,  that  sharing  life  with  you, 
would  have  given  it  a  relish,  that,  wanting  you,  I 
never  can  taste. 

Your  uncommon  personal  advantages,  and  your 
superior  good  sense,  do  not  so  much  strike  me  ;  these 
possibly  in  a  few  instances  may  be  met  with  in  others ; 
but  that  amiable  goodness,  that  tender,  feminine  soft- 
ness, that  endearing  sweetness  of  disposition,  with  all 


^T.  23.]  RESIDENCE  IN  IRVINE.  367 

the  charming  offspring  of  a  warm  feeling  heart — these 
I  never  again  expect  to  meet  with  in  such  a  degree 
in  this  world.  All  these  charming  qualities,  height- 
ened by  an  education  much  beyond  anything  I  have 
ever  met  with  in  any  woman  I  ever  dared  to  approach, 
have  made  an  impression  on  my  heart  that  I  do  not 
think  the  world  can  ever  efface.  My  imagination  had 
fondly  flattered  itself  with  a  wish,  I  dare  not  say  it  ever 
reached  a  hope,  that  possibly  I  might  one  day  call 
you  mine.  I  had  formed  the  most  delightful  images, 
and  my  fancy  fondly  brooded  over  them  ;  but  now  I 
am  wretched  for  the  loss  of  what  I  really  had  no  right 
to  expect.  I  must  now  think  no  more  of  you  as  a 
mistress,  still  I  presume  to  ask  to  be  admitted  as  a 
friend.  As  such  I  wish  to  be  allowed  to  wait  on  you, 
and  as  I  expect  to  remove  in  a  few  days  a  little  far- 
ther off,  and  you,  I  suppose,  will  perhaps  soon  leave 
this  place,  I  wish  to  see  you  or  hear  from  you  soon  ; 
and  if  an  expression  should  perhaps  escape  me  rather 
too  warm  for  friendship,  I  hope  you  will  pardon  it  in, 

my  dear  Miss ,  (pardon  me  the  dear  expression  for 

once).  * 


Brief  Sojourn  in  Irvine,  and  return  to  I,ochi,ea. 

The  last  of  the  foregoing  series  of  love  letters  closes  with 
a  reference  to  the  fact  that  the  writer  expected  soon  to  re- 
move to  some  distance.  Gilbert  has  explained  that  Robert 
and  he  had  been  allowed  by  their  father  to  cultivate  flax 
on  their  own  account  on  a  portion  of  the  ground  at  Loch- 
lea  ;  and  that  in  course  of  selling  it  Robert  began  to  think 
of   learning    and    pursuing    the    trade    of    a    flax    dresser,    as 


•  We  have  already  quoted  Lockhart's  and  Chambers's  opiuions  of  the  foregoing 
letters.  Motherwell  remarks,  that  "  Burns  in  these  letters  moralizes  occasionally 
very  happily  on  love  and  marriage.  They  are  in  fact  the  only  sensible  love  let- 
ters we  have  seen  ;  yet  they  have  an  air  of  task-work  and  constraint  about  them 
that  is  far  from  natural." 

Dr.  Hately  Waddell's  opinion  of  them  is  thus  briefly  expressed  :—"  After  such 
fiertaonising,  the  result  was  by  no  means  wonderful." 


368  CORRESPONDENCE.  [1781. 

well  to  «uit  his  grand  view  of  settling  in  life,  as  to  turn  the 
flax-growing  on  the  farm  to  good  account.  On  nth  November 
1780,  he  was  mainly  instrumental  in  forming  a  Bachelor  de- 
bating club  in  the  village  of  Tarbolton,  whose  glory  at  length 
culminated  in  causing  the  production  of  the  famous  poem 
"Death  and  Dr.  Hornbook."  On  the  4th  of  July  1781,  he  was 
admitted  an  apprentice  freemason  of  St.  David's  Tarbolton 
Ivodge,  No.  174,  and  immediately  thereafter  he  removed  to  the 
seaport  town  of  Ir\^inc,  where  he  entered  into  partnership  with 
a  flax-dresser  named  Peacock,  a  distant  relative  of  his  mother's  ; 
but  the  result  of  that  scheme  was  far  from  satisfactory.  There, 
however,  he  fonned  an  intimate  friendship  with  a  young  sea- 
man named  Richard  Brown,  of  whose  talents  an d^ manliness  of 
character  he  formed  so  high  an  opinion,  that  he  seems  to  have 
adopted  him  as  his  model,  both  in  sentiment  and  deportment. 
This  yoimg  man  became  in  course  of  time  one  of  his  most 
cherished  correspondents  ;  and  it  appears  from  one  of  Bums' s 
letters  to  him  (30th  December  1787)  that  Brown  was  among 
the  first  individuals  who  discerned  his  latent  genius,  and  en- 
couraged him  to  aspire  to  the  character  of  a  poet. 

The  following  letter  addressed  by  him  to  his  father  completes 
the  picture  of  that  distress  at  Irvine  ;  he  was  enabled  to  leave 
that  town  early  in  the  spring  of  1782,  and  return  to  his  rustic 
occupation  at  Lochlea. 


TO  HIS  FATHER. 

(CURRIE,    1800.) 

lR\aNR,  Dec.  27,  1781. 
Honored  Sir, — I  have  purposely  delayed  writing, 
in  the  hope  that  I  should  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you,  on  New- Year's  day ;  but  work  comes  so  hard 
upon  us,  that  I  do  not  choose  to  be  absent  on  that 
account,  as  well  as  for  some  other  little  reasons  which 
I  shall  tell  you  at  meeting.  My  health  is  nearly  the 
same  as  when  you  were  here,  only  my  sleep  is  a  little 
sounder,  and  on  the  whole  I  am  rather  better  than 
otherwise,  though  I  mend  by  ver>'  slow  degrees.  The 
weakness  of  my  nerv^es  has  so  debilitated  my  mind, 
that  I  dare  neither  review  my  past  wants,  nor  look 
forward   into    futurity ;    for   the    least   anxiety   in    my 


^er.  23.]  SEVERE  ILI.NESS.  369 

breast  produces  most  unhappy  effects  on  my  whole 
frame.  Sometimes,  indeed,  when  for  an  hour  or  two 
my  spirits  are  a  little  lightened,  I  glimmer  a  little 
into  futurity  ;  but  my  principal,  and  indeed  my  only 
pleasurable,  employment  is  looking  backwards  and 
forwards  in  a  moral  and  religious  way.  I  am  quite 
transported  at  the  thought  that  ere  long,  perhaps  very 
soon,  I  shall  bid  an  eternal  adieu  to  all  the  pains,  and 
uneasiness,  and  disquietudes  of  this  weary  life  ;  for  I 
assure  you  I  am  heartily  tired  of  it  ;  and  if  I  do  not 
very  much  deceive  myself,  I  could  contentedly  and 
gladly  resign  it. 

"The  soul,  uneasy,  and  confined  at  liome, 
Rests  and  expatiates  in  a  life  to  come." 

It  is  for  this  reason  I  am  more  pleased  with  the 
15th,  i6th,  and  17th  verses  of  the  7th  chapter  of 
Revelation,*  than  with  any  ten  times  as  many  verses 
in  the  whole  Bible,  and  would  not  exchange  the  noble 
enthusiasm  with  which  they  inspire  me  for  all  that 
this  world  has  to  offer.  As  for  this  world,  I  despair 
of  ever  making  a  figure  in  it.  I  am  not  formed  for 
the  bustle  of  the  busy,  nor  the  flutter  of  the  gay.  I 
shall  never  again  be  capable  of  entering  into  such 
scenes.  Indeed  I  am  altogether  unconcerned  at  the 
thoughts  of  this  life.  I  foresee  that  poverty  and  ob- 
scurity probably  await  me,  and  I  am  in  some  measure 
prepared,  and  daily  preparing,  to  meet  them.  I  have 
but  just  time  and  paper  to  return  you  my  grateful 
thanks  for  the  lessons  of  virtue  and  piety  you  have 
given  me,  which  were  too  much  neglected  at  the  time 
of  giving  them,  but  which,  I  hope  have  been  remem- 


*  '  Therefore  are  they  before  the  throne  of  God,  and  serve  Him  day  and  night 
in  His  temple  ;  and  He  that  sitteth  on  the  throne  shall  dwell  among  them. 
They  shall  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more  ;  neitlier  shall  the  sun 
light  on  them,  nor  any  heat.  For  the  Lamb  that  is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne 
shall  feed  them,  and  shall  lead  them  unto  living  fountains  of  waters ;  and  God 
shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes.' 

I.  X 


370  CORRESPONDENCE.  [1782. 

bered  ere  it  was  too  late.  Present  my  dutiful  respects 
to  my  mother,  and  my  compliments  to  Mr,  and  Mrs. 
Muir  ;  and,  with  wishing  you  a  merry  New-year's  day 
I  shall  conclude.  I  am,  honored  Sir,  your  dutiful 
son,  Robert  Burness. 

P.  S. — My  meal  is  nearly  out ;   but  I  am  going   to 
borrow  till  I  get  more.* 


The  Plough  and  the  Lyre  Resumed,  1782. 

Speaking  of  this  period  in  his  Autobiograpjjiy,  the  author 
saj's — "  Rhyme,  except  some  reHgious  pieces  that  are  in  print, 
I  had  given  up  ;  but  meeting  with  Fergusson's  Scots  Poems,  I 
strung  anew  my  wildly-sounding  rustic  lyre  with  emulating 
vigor."  The  admirable  piece  called  "The  death  and  dying 
words  of  poor  Mailie,"  together  with  the  songs,  "  My  Nanie 
O,"  and  "The  Rigs  o'  Barley,"  are  the  striking  compositions 
which  the  above  remark  suggests  to  the  reader's  mind  ;  we 
gather  from  Gilbert's  account  of  the  production  of  Poor  Mailie 
that  their  youngest  brother  John  (bom  in  1769)  was  then  alive. 
That  youth  was  fourteen  years  old  when  he  died,  and  conse- 
quently would  be  laid  in  Alloway  kirkyard  in  1783,  just  about 
a  year  before  the  patriarchal  father  was  carried  thither. 


0  TO  SIR  JOHN  WHITEFOORD,  Bart. 

OF    BalLOCHMYLE. 
(DoUGI,AS,  1877.) 

Sir, — We  who  subscribe  this  are  both  members  of 
St  James's  Lodge,  Tarbolton,  and  one  of  us  in  the 
office  of  Warden,  and  as  we  have  the  honor  of  having 

*This  beautifully  dutiful  and  reverential  letter  goes  far  to  justify  what  Waddell 
says  of  Burns's  character  even  during  the  Irvdne  period.  "  Still  (i.  e.  in  spite  of 
questionable  fellowships,  &c.,)  his  heart  was  uncontaminated,  and  his  life,  as 
lives  then  went,  conspicuously  pure.  His  studious  habits,  the  gentleness  and 
wisdom  of  his  converse,  his  filial  reverence  and  brotherly  attachments  were  themes 
of  admiration  everywhere  and  to  this  day  are  spoken  of."  Read,  in  connection 
with  this,  his  epitaph  on  his  father,  which  carries  its  own  evidence  of  its  sincerity  ; 
and  yet  more,  that  portion  of  the  Cotter's  Saturday  Night  where  he  depicts  the 
"  patriarchal  sire,"— J.  H. 


/GT.  24.]  FREE  MASONRY.  371 

you  for  Master  of  our  Lodge,  we  hope  you  will  ex- 
cuse this  freedom,  as  you  are  the  proper  person  to 
whom  we  ought  to  apply.  We  look  on  our  Mason 
Lodge  to  be  a  serious  matter,  both  with  respect  to 
the  character  of  Masonry  itself,  and  likewise  as  it  is  a 
Charitable  Society.  This  last,  indeed,  does  not  inter- 
est you  farther  than  a  benevolent  heart  is  interested 
in  the  welfare  of  its  fellow-creatures ;  but  to  us,  Sir, 
who  are  of  the  lower  orders  of  mankind,  to  have  a  fund 
in  view,  on  which  we  may  with  certainty  depend  to 
be  kept  from  want  should  we  be  in  circumstances  of 
distress,  or  old  age,  this  is  a  matter  of  high  import- 
ance. 

We  are  sorry  to  observe  that  our  Lodge's  affairs  with 
respect  to  its  finances,  have  for  a  good  while  been  in 
a  wretched  situation.  We  have  considerable  sums  in 
bills  which  lye  by  without  being  paid,  or  put  in  ex- 
ecution, and  many  of  our  members  never  mind  their 
yearly  dues,  or  anything  else  belonging  to  the  Lodge. 
And  since  the  separation  from  St.  David's,  we  are  not 
sure  even  of  our  existence  as  a  Lodge.  There  has 
been  a  dispute  before  the  Grand  Lodge,  but  how  de- 
cided, or  if  decided  at  all,  we  know  not. 

For  these  and  other  reasons,  we  humbly  beg  the  favor 
of  you,  as  soon  as  convenient,  to  call  a  meeting,  awW 
let  us  consider  on  some  means  to  retrieve  our  wretched 
affairs, — We  are,   &c. 

The  separation  between  the  St.  David's  and  St.  James's 
Lodges  of  Tarbolton,  above  referred  to,  happened  in  June  1782  ; 
and  therefore  the  latter  portion  of  that  year  seems  to  be  the 
date  of  the  foregoing  letter.  It  exists  as  a  scroll  in  the  poet's 
handwriting  on  the  back  of  his  draft  of  No.  i  of  the  love-letters 
to  Ellison  Begbie,  given  at  p.  360,  s?ipm.  The  original  is  in 
the  possession  of  John  Adams,  Esq.,  Greenock. 

We  have  already  noted  that  Burns -was  admitted  an  appren- 
tice in  St.  David's  Tarbolton  Lodge  (174)  on  4th  July,  and 
passed  and  raised  on  ist  October  1781.  At  the  disruption  of 
that  Lodge  in  June  1782,  the  separating  body  to  which  Bums 


372  CORRESPONDENCE.  [1783. 

belonged  obtained  constitution  as  "  St.  James's  Tarbolton  Lodge 
(178),"  and  the  poet's  name  occurs  in  the  books  of  that  Lodge 
as  Depute-master,  on  27th  July  17S4. 

The  next  letter  of  the  young  bard  is  a  very  interesting  one, 
addressed  to  his  early  preceptor,  Murdoch.  It  not  only  exhibits 
the  progress  of  his  studies,  but  (as  Motherw'ell  has  remarked) 
*'  aflfords  us  an  insight  into  the  origin  of  part  of  that  senti- 
mentalism  and  exaggeration  of  feeling  which  are  occasionally 
perceptible,  especially  in  his  prose  writings."  The  ballad  "My 
father  was  a  farmer  upon  the  Carrick  border,"  given  at  p.  38, 
Vol.  I,  contains  many  of  the  characteristic  thoughts  found  in  this 
letter. 


(•)  TO  MR.  JOHN  MURDOCH,  SCHOOLMASTER, 

STAPLES  INN   BUIIvDINGS,    LONDON. 
(CURRIE,   1800.) 

LocHi^EA,  i^th  Ja7iuary  1783. 

Dear  Sir, — As  I  have  an  opportunity  of  sending 
you  a  letter  without  putting  you  to  that  expense, 
which  any  production  of  mine  would  ill  repay,  I  em- 
brace it  with  pleasure,  to  tell  }'ou  that  I  have  not  for- 
gotten, nor  will  ever  forget,  the  many  obligations  I 
lie  under  to  your  kindness  and  friendship. 

I  do  not  doubt.  Sir,  but  you  will  wish  to  know 
what  has  been  the  result  of  all  the  pains  of  an  indul- 
gent father,  and  a  masterly  teacher ;  and  I  wish  I 
could  gratify  your  curiosity  with  such  a  recital  as  you 
would  be  pleased  with  ;  but  that  is  what  I  am  afraid 
will  not  be  the  case.  I  have  indeed  kept  pretty  clear 
of  vicious  habits,  and  in  this  respect,  I  hope  my  con- 
duct will  not  disgrace  the  education  I  have  gotten  ; 
but,  as  a  man  of  the  world,  I  am  most  miserably  de- 
ficient. One  would  have  thought  that,  bred  as  I  have 
been  under  a  father  who  has  figured  pretty  well  as 
un  homme  des  affaires^  I  might  have  been  what  the 
world  calls,  a  pushing   active  fellow  ;   but   to  tell  you 


^^.  25.]  HIS   FAVORITE  AUTHORS.  873 

the  truth,  Sir,  there  is  hardly  anything  more  my  reverse. 
I  seem  to  be  one  sent  into  the  world  to  see  and  ob- 
serve ;  and  I  very  easily  compound  with  the  knave 
who  tricks  me  of  my  money,  if  there  be  any  thing 
original  about  him  which  shews  me  human  nature  in 
a  different  light  from  any  thing  I  have  seen  before. 
In  short,  the  joy  of  my  heart  is  to  "study  men,  their 
manners,  and  their  ways;"  and  for  this  darling  sub- 
ject I  cheerfully  sacrifice  every  other  consideration.  I 
am  quite  indolent  about  those  great  concerns  that  set 
the  bustling,  busy  sons  of  care  agog ;  and  if  I  have 
to  answer  for  the  present  hour  I  am  very  easy  with 
regard  to  anything  further.  Even  the  last,  worst  shift 
of  the  unfortunate  and  the  wretched,'''  does  not  much 
terrify  me  :  I  know  that  even  then,  my  talent  for  what 
country  folks  call  ' '  a  sensible  crack, ' '  when  once  it 
is  sanctified  by  a  hoary  head,  would  procure  me  so 
much  esteem,  that  even  then — I  would  learn  to  be 
happy.  However,  I  am  under  no  apprehensions  about 
that,  for  though  indolent,  yet  so  far  as  an  extremely 
delicate  constitution  permits,  I  am  not  lazy  ;  and  in 
many  things,  -especially  in  tavern  matters,  I  am  a 
strict  economist ;  not  indeed  for  the  sake  of  the  money  ; 
but  one  of  the  principal  parts  in  my  composition  is  a 
kind  of  pride  of  stomach,  and  I  scorn  to  fear  the  face 
of  any  man  living  ;  above  everything,  I  abhor  as  hell, 
the  idea  of  sneaking  in  a  corner  to  avoid  a  dun — pos- 
sibly some  pitiful,  sordid  wretch  who  in  my  heart  I 
despise  and  detest.  'Tis  this,  and  this  alone,  that  en- 
dears economy  to  me.  f  In  the  matter  of  books,  indeed, 
I  am  very  profuse.  My  favorite  authors  are  of  the 
sentimental  kind,  such  as  Shenstone,  particularly  his 
Elegies ;    Thomson  ;    Man  of  Feeling  (a  book  I  prize 

*  The  last  shift  alluded  to  here,  must  be  the  condition  of  an  itinerant  beggar. 
— CuRRiE.  The  same  sentiment,  clothed  in  fascinating  verse,  is  found  in  the  first 
"  Epistle  to  Davie." 

t  The  reader  will  recognise  in  the  above  passage  the  materials  of  one  of  the 
most  admired  stanzas  in  the  "  Epistle  to  a  young  Friend." 


374  CORRESPONDENCE.  [1783, 

next  to  the  Bible)  ;  Alan  of  the  World ;  Sterne,  espe^ 
cially  his  Sentimental  Journey ;  M'Pherson's  Ossian^ 
&c. :  these  are  the  glorious  models  after  which  I  en- 
deavor to  form  my  conduct  ;  and  'tis  incongruous,  'tis 
absurd  to  suppose  that  the  man  whose  mind  glows  with 
sentiments  lighted  up  at  their  sacred  flame — the  man 
whose  heart  distends  with  benevolence  to  the  whole 
human  race — he  "who  can  soar  above  this  little  scene 
of  tilings" — can  he  descend  to  mind  the  paltry  con- 
cerns about  which  the  terrcefilial*  race  fret,  and  fume, 
and  vex  themselves  !  O  how  the  glorious  triumph 
swells  my  heart  !  I  forget  that  I  am  a  J^oor  insignifi- 
cant devil,  unnoticed  and  unknown,  stalking  up  and 
down  fairs  and  markets,  when  I  happen  to  be  in  them 
reading  a  page  or  two  of  Mankind,  and  "catching  the 
manners  living  as  they  rise,"  whilst  the  men  of  busi- 
ness jostle  me  on  every  side  as  an  idle  incumbrance  in 
their  way.f — But  I  dare  say  I  have  by  this  time  tired 
your  patience  ;  so  I  shall  conclude  with  begging  you 
to  give  Mrs.  IVIurdoch — not  my  compliments,  for  that 
is  a  mere  common  place  story  ;  but  my  warmest,  kind- 
est wishes  for  her  welfare  ;  and  accept  of  the  same  for 
yourself,  from, — Dear  Sir,  yours,   &c. 

The  reference  made  in  the  above  letter  to  the  writer's  aged 
father  is  very  sHght,  but  elsewhere  he  says  : — "the  clouds  of 
misfortune  were  gathering  thick  round  my  father's  head,  the 
darkest  of  which  was,  he  was  visibly  far  gone  in  a  consump- 
tion." The  two  letters  which  follow — addressed  to  the  son  of 
James,  the  deceased  elder  brother  of  William  Bumess,  carry 
that  topic  to  its  dark  issue,  and  the  first  of  these  is  expanded 
into  what  Chambers  terms,  "a  sensible  this-world-like  sketch 
of  the  state  of  country  matters  at  that  time  in  Ayrshire." 

*  Bums  was  fond  of  such  Latin  compounds  as  "  terrsefilial  "  and  "  tenebrific," 
the  latter  of  which  he  uses  in  the  Epistle  to  Davie. 

\  The  reader  will  in  this  passage  be  reminded  of  similar  language  introduced 
Into  some  of  the  poet's  epistles  in  1785,  for  instance, 

The  warly  race  may  drudge  and  drive, 
Hog-shouther  juudie,  stretch  and  strive, 
Let  me  fair  Nature's  face  descrive,"  &c.  p.  118. 


^T.  25.]  HIS  FATHER'S  RBI.ATIONS.  375 

In  strict  chronological  order  we  ought  here  to  introduce  the 
opening  passages  of  a  very  interesting  Common -pi  ace  Book, 
which  the  poet  commenced  in  April  1783,  and  continued  from 
time  to  time  to  insert  entries  therein  till  he  closed  it  in  Octo- 
ber 1785,  with  the  words — "  Let  my  pupil,  as  he  tenders  his 
own  peace,  keep  up  a  regular,  warm  intercourse  with  the 
Deity."  But  we  will  present  that  document  verbatim  and  in- 
tact, from  the  original  manuscript,  in  its  proper  place,  and 
therefore  defer  its  introduction  until  it  may  be  perused  with 
more  efifect. 


C)  TO   MR.  JAMES  BURNESS,  WRITER,  MONT- 
ROSE.* 

(GlI^BERT  BURNS'S  Ed.,   1820.) 

Dear  Sir, — My  father  received  your  favor  of  the 
loth  curt.,  and  as  he  has  been  for  some  months  very 
poorly  in  health,  and  is,  in  his  own  opinion — and  in- 
deed in  almost  every  body's  else — in  a  dying  condi- 
tion, he  has  only  with  great  difficulty  wrote  a  few 
farewell  lines  to  each  of  his  brothers-in-law.  For  this 
melancholy  reason,  I  now  hold  the  pen  for  him  to 
thank  you  for  your  kind  letter,  and  to  assure  you, 
Sir,  that  it  shall  not  be  my  fault  if  my  father's  cor- 
respondence in  the  north  die  with  him.  My  brother 
writes  to  John  Caird,  and  to  him  I  must  refer  you  for 
the  news  of  our  family,  f 

I  shall  only  trouble  you  with  a  few  particulars  rela- 
tive to  the  present  wretched  state  of  this  country.  Our 
markets  are  exceedingly  high — oatmeal  \^d.  and  iS^f. 
per  peck,  and  not  to  be  got  even  at  that  price.  We 
have  indeed  been  pretty  well  supplied  with  quantities 
of  white  peas  from   England  and   elsewhere,   but  that 


♦This  gentlemao,  a  son  of  James  Burness,  the  deceased  brother  of  WilHanj 
Burness,  was,  of  course,  a  full  cousin  of  the  poet,  and  his  senior  by  upwards 
of  eight  years. 

+  John  Caird,  as  the  reader  has  seen  at  p.  331  supra,  was  the  husband  of 
Elspet.  a  sister  of  the  poet's  father. 


376  CORRESPONDENCE.  [1783. 

resource  is  likely  to  fail  us,  and  what  will  become  of 
us  then,  particularly  the  very  poorest  sort,  Heaven 
only  knows.  This  country,  till  of  late,  was  flourish- 
ing incredibly  in  the  manufacture  of  Silk,  Lawn,  and 
Carpet-weaving  ;  and  we  are  still  carrying  on  a  good 
deal  in  that  way,  but  much  reduced  from  what  it  was. 
We  had  also  a  fine  trade  in  the  Shoe  way,  but  now 
entirely  ruined,  and  hundreds  driven  to  a  starving 
condition  on  account  of  it.  Farming  is  also  at  a  very 
low  ebb  with  us.  Our  lands,  generally  speaking,  are 
mountainous  and  barren  ;  and  our  Landhoiders,  full  of 
ideas  of  farming  gathered  from  English,  and  the  Lo- 
thians,  and  other  rich  soils  in  Scotland,  make  no  al- 
lowance for  the  odds  of  the  quality  of  land,  and  con- 
sequently stretch  us  much  beyond  what,  in  the  event, 
we  will  be  found  able  to  pay.  We  are  also  much  at 
a  loss  for  want  of  proper  methods  in  our  improve- 
ments of  farming.  Necessity  compels  us  to  leave  our 
old  schemes,  and  few  of  us  have  opportunities  of  being 
well  informed  in  new  ones.  In  short,  my  dear  Sir, 
since  the  unfortunate  beginning  of  this  American  war, 
and  its  as  unfortunate  conclusion,  this  country  has  been, 
and  still  is,  decaying  very  fast.  Even  in  higher  life, 
a  couple  of  our  Ayrshire  noblemen,  and  the  major  part  of 
our  knights  and  squires,  are  all  insolvent.  A  misera- 
ble job  of  a  Douglas,  Heron,  and  Co. 's  bank,  which 
no  doubt  you  have  heard  of,  has  undone  numbers  of 
them  ;  and  imitating  English  and  French,  and  other 
foreign  luxuries  and  fopperies,  has  ruined  as  many 
more.  There  is  a  great  trade  of  smuggling  carried  on 
along  our  coasts,  which,  however  destructive  to  the 
interests  of  the  kingdom  at  large,  certainly  enriches 
this  corner  of  it,  but  too  often  at  the  expense  of  our 
morals.  However,  it  enables  individuals  to  make,  at 
least  for  a  time,  a  splendid  appearance  ;  but  Fortune, 
as  is  usual  with  her  when  she  is  uncommonly  lavish 
of  her  favors,  is  generally  even  with  them  at  the  last ; 


^T.  25.]  DEATH   OF  HIS   FATHER.  377 

and  happy  were  it  for  numbers  of  them  if  she  would 
leave  them  no  worse  than  when  she  found  them. 

My  mother  sends  you  a  small  present  of  a  cheese  ; 
'tis  but  a  very  little  one,  as  our  last  year's  stock  is 
sold  off;  but  if  you  could  fix  on  any  correspondent 
in  Edinburgh  or  Glasgow,  we  would  send  you  a  proper 
one  in  the  season.  Mrs  Black  promises  to  take  the 
cheese  under  her  care  so  far,  and  then  to  send  it  to 
you  by  the  Stirling  carrier. 

I  shall  conclude  this  long  letter  with  assuring  you 
that  I  shall  be  very  happy  to  hear  from  you,  or  any 
of  our  friends  in  your  country,  when  opportunity  serves. 

My  father  sends  you,  probably  for  the  last  time  in 
this  world,  his  warmest  wishes  for  your  welfare  and 
happiness  ;  and  mother  and  the  rest  of  the  family 
desire  to  enclose  their  kind  comp°^^.  to  you,  Mrs.  Bur- 
ness,  and  the  rest  of  your  family,  along  with,  dear  Sir, 
Your  affectionate  Cousin, 

ROBT.    BURNESS.* 
LoCHi<EA,  215/  June  1783. 

OTO   MR.  JAMES   BURNESS,  WRITER, 

MONTROSE. 

(Gilbert  Burns's  Ed.,  1820.) 

D^.  Cousin, — I  would  have  returned  you  my  thanks 
for  your  kind  favor  of  the  13th  of  December  sooner, 
had  it  not  been  that  I  waited  to  give  you  an  account 
of  that  melancholy  event  which  for  some  time  past  we 
have  from  day  to  day  expected. 

On  the  13th  current  I  lost  the  best  of  fathers,  f 
Though,  to  be  sure,  we  have  had  long  warning  of  the 


«  The  origrinal  MS.  of  this  letter,  and  of  that  which  immediately  follows,  i.s  pre- 
served in  the  poet's  monument  at  Edinburgh.  A  comparison  of  our  text  with  that 
of  other  editions  will  show  several  nice  variations  here  as  the  result  of  the  col- 
lation. 

t  Notwithstanding  the  poet's  (erroneous)  impression  in  regard  to  his  father's 
dislike  to  him,  we  see  here,  as  elsewhere,  the  tender  respect  with  which  he  cher 
ished  his  memory. — ^J.  H. 


878  CORRESPONDENCE.  [1783. 

impending  stroke  ;  still  the  feelings  of  nature  claim 
their  part,  and  I  cannot  recollect  the  tender  endear- 
ments and  parental  lessons  of  the  best  of  friends  and 
the  ablest  of  instructors,  without  feeling  what,  perhaps, 
the  calmer  dictates  of  reason  would  partly  condemn. 

I  hope  my  father's  friends  in  your  country  will  not 
let  their  connection  in  this  place  die  with  him.  For 
my  part  I  sliall  ever  with  pleasure — with  pride,  acknowl- 
edge my  connection  with  those  who  were  allied  by  the 
ties  of  blood  and  friendship  to  a  man  whose  memory 
I  shall  ever  honor  and  revere. 

I  expect  therefore,  my  dear  Sir,  you  wiU  not  neglect 
any  opportunity  of  letting  me  hear  from  you,  which 
will  very  much  oblidge, — My  dear  Cousin,  yours  sin- 
cerely, 

Robert  Burness. 

LoCHLEA,  17/A  February  1784. 


OTO  MR.  JAMES   BURNESS,  WRITER, 
MONTROSE. 

(Cunningham,  1834.) 

MossGiEL,  3  Aiii^.  1784, 

My  Dear  Sir, — I  ought  in  gratitude  to  have 
acknowledged  the  receipt  of  your  last  kind  letter  before 
this  time  ;  but,  without  troubling  you  with  any  apology, 
I  shall  proceed  to  inform  you  that  our  family  are  all  in 
good  health  at  present,  and  we  were  ver>'  happy  with 
the  unexpected  favor  of  John  Caird's  company  for 
nearly  two  weeks,  and  I  must  say  it  of  him  that  he 
is  one  of  the  most  agreeable,  facetious,  warm-hearted 
lads  I  was  ever  acquainted  with. 

We  have  been  surprised  with  one  of  the  most  extra- 
ordinary phenomena  in  the  moral  world,  which,  I  dare 
say,  has  happened  in  the  course  of  this  last  centur}^ 
We  have  had  a  party  of  the  "Presbytery  Relief,"  as 


-^T.  26.]  THE  BUCHANITES.  379 

they  call  themselves,  for  some  time  in  this  country. 
A  pretty  thriving  society  of  them  has  been  in  the 
burgh  of  Ir\dne  for  some  years  past,  till  about  two 
years  ago,  a  Mrs.  Buchan  from  Glasgow  came  and 
began  to  spread  some  fanatical  notions  of  religion 
among  them,  and  in  a  short  time  made  many  converts 
among  them,  and  among  others,  their  Preacher,  one 
Mr.  Whyte,  who,  upon  that  account,  has  been  sus- 
pended and  formally  deposed  by  his  brethren.  He 
continued,  however,  to  preach  in  private  to  his  party, 
and  was  supported,  both  he  and  their  Spiritual  INIother, 
as  they  affect  to  call  old  Buchan,  by  the  contributions 
of  the  rest,  several  of  whom  were  in  good  circum- 
stances ;  till  in  Spring  last,  the  populace  rose  and 
mobbed  the  old  leader,  Buchan,  and  put  her  out  of 
the  town  ;  on  which  all  her  followers  voluntarily  quitted 
the  place  likewise,  and  with  such  precipitation,  that 
many  of  them  never  shut  their  doors  behind  them  ; 
one  left  a  washing  on  the  green,  another  a  cow  bel- 
lowing at  the  crib  without  meat,  or  any  body  to  mind 
her,  and  after  several  stages  they  are  fixed  at  present  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Dumfries.  Their  tenets  are  a  strange 
jumble  of  enthusiastic  jargon  ;  among  others,  she  pre- 
tends to  give  them  the  Holy  Ghost  by  breathing  on 
them,  which  she  does  with  postures  and  practices  that 
are  scandalously  indecent.  They  have  likewise  dis- 
posed of  all  their  effects,  and  hold  a  comnninity  of 
goods,  and  live  nearly  an  idle  life,  carrying  on  a  great 
farce  of  pretended  devotion  in  barns  and  woods,  where 
they  lodge  and  lie  all  together,  and  hold  likewise  a 
community  of  women,  as  it  is  another  of  their  tenets 
that  they  can  commit  no  moral  sin.  I  am  personally 
acquainted  with  most  of  them,  and  I  can  assure  you 
the  above  mentioned  are  facts. 

This,  my  dear  Sir,  is  one  of  the  many  instances  of 
the  folly  in  leaving  the  guidance  of  sound  reason  and 
common   sense  in    matters  of  religion.     Whenever  we 


380  CORRESrONDENCE.  [1784 

neglect  or  despise  these  sacred  monitors,  the  whimsical 
notions  of  a  perturbated  brain  are  taken  for  the  imme- 
diate influences  of  the  Deity,  and  the  wildest  fanaticism, 
and  the  most  inconsistent  absurdities,  will  meet  with 
abettors  and  converts.  Nay,  I  have  often  thought,  that 
the  more  out-of-the-way  and  ridiculous  their  fancies  are, 
if  once  they  arc  sanctified  under  the  sacred  name  of 
Religion,  the  unhappy  mistaken  votaries  are  the  more 
firmly  glued  to  them. 

I  expect  to  hear  from  >-ou  soon,  and  I  beg  you 
will  remember  me  to  all  friends,  and  believe  me  to 
be,  my  Dear  Sir,  your  affectionate  Cousin^ 

Robert  Burness. 

Direct  to  mc  at  Mossgiel,  parish  of  Mauchline,  near 
Kilmarnock. 

The  holograph  of  the  above  letter  is  preser\'ed  in  the  poet's 
monument  at  Edinburgh,  from  which  we  supply  the  opening 
and  concluding  paragraphs  hitherto  omitted,  and  correct  several 
inaccuracies  in  fonner  editions. 

The  following  letter  is  addressed  to  Thomas  Orr,  an  old 
associate  of  the  poet,  in  his  Kirkoswald  School  days  of 
Autumn  1775,  who  occasionally  came  to  Lochlea  to  assist  in 
shearing  the  harvest  grain.  Thomas  Orr  was  in  Burns's  confi- 
dence regarding  his  amour  with  Peggy  Thomson,  which  fonns 
the  subject  of  the  following  note.  It  is  to  him  that  William 
Burness  addresses  the  first  of  the  two  letters  of  his  here  pub- 
lished. (See  page  358.)  See  fac-simile  of  a  letter  to  T.  Orr,  1782, 
inserted. 


0)  TO  MR.  tho:mas  orr, 

PARK,    near   kirkoswald. 

(DouGi:..\s,  1877.) 

D"^.  Thomas, — I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your 
last  letter,  tho'  I  assure  you  the  contents  of  it  gave 
me  no  manner  of  concern.  I  am  presently  so  cursedly 
taken    in  with  an  affair  of  gallantry,   that    I    am  very 


JS,r.  25.]  MISS  KENNEDY.  381 

glad  Peggy  is  off  my  hands,  as  I  am  at  present  em- 
barrassed enough  without  her.  I  don't  choose  to  enter 
into  particulars  in  writing,  but  never  was  a  poor  rakish 
rascal  in  a  more  pitiful  taking.  I  should  be  glad  to 
see  you  to  tell  you  the  affair,  meanwhile  I  am  }our 
friend, 

Robert  Burness. 

MossGiEi.,  II  Nov.  1784. 


Amid  all  the  wealth  of  poetry  produced  by  Burns  in  course 
of  the  year  1785,  it  is  curious  to  note  that  only  one  prose 
letter,  known  to  have  been  penned  by  him  in  that  3'ear,  is 
found  in  his  correspondence.  It  is  the  one  addressed  to  Miss 
Peggy  Kennedy  of  Daljarrock,  parish  of  Colmonell,  a  young 
Carrick  beauty  who  in  the  autumn  of  that  year  paid  a  visit  of 
some  weeks'  duration  to  her  relative,  Mrs.  Gavin  Hamilton. 
Burns  became  acquainted  with  her  during  his  then  ahnost 
daily  intercourse  with  Mr.  Hamilton,  and  recorded  his  admira- 
tion of  her  person  in  the  poem  printed  at  page  139,  Vol.  I. 
His  warmest  good-wishes  were  at  same  time  expressed  in  the 
following  letter  which  enclosed  the  verses. 


0  TO  MISS  MARGARET  KENNEDY.* 

(Cromek,  1808.) 

[Autumn  of  1785.] 

Madam,— Permit  me  to  present  you  with  the  en- 
closed song,  as  a  small  though  grateful  tribute  for  the 
honor  of  your  acquaintance.  I  have  in  these  verses 
attempted  some  faint  sketches  of  your  portrait  in  the 
unembellished,  simple  manner  of  descriptive  Truth. 
Flatter}^,  I  leave  to  your  LovERS,  whose  exaggerating 
fancies  may  make  them  imagine  you  are  still  nearer 
perfection  than  you  really  are. 

Poets,   Madam,    of  all   mankind,    feel    most   forcibly 

*  Miss  Kennedy  was  the  niece  of  Sir  Andrew  Cathcart,  of  Carleton  Bart.  Burns 
made  her  acquaintance  at  the  house  of  Gavin  Hamilton,  Mauchline.  We  wiU  in 
a  future  portion  of  this  work  have  to  very  fuHy  treat  of  her  historj'.  She  was 
the  "  occasion  "  of  "  Ye  Banks  and  Braes  o'  Bonie  Doou,"  and  other  pieces.— J.  H. 


382  CORRESPONDENCE.  [1784. 

the  powers  of  Beauty  ;  as,  if  they  are  really  PoETS  of 
Nature's  making,  their  feelings  must  be  finer,  and  their 
taste  more  delicate  than  most  of  the  world.  In  the 
cheerful  bloom  of  Spring,  or  the  pensive  mildness  of 
Autumn,  the  grandeur  of  Summer,  or  the  lioary^  ma- 
jesty of  Winter,  the  poet  feels  a  chann  unknown  to 
the  most  of  his  species  :  even  the  sight  of  a  fine  flower, 
or  the  company  of  a  fine  woman  (by  far  the  finest  part 
of  God's  works  below),  have  sensations  for  the  poetic 
heart  that  the  Herd  of  men  are  strangers  to.  On  this 
last  account.  Madam,  I  am,  as  in  many  other  things, 
indebted  to  Mr,  Hamilton's  kindness  in  mtroducing 
me  to  }ou.  Your  lovers  may  view  }ou  with  a  wish, 
I  look  on  you  with  pleasure  ;  their  hearts,  in  your 
presence,  may  glow  with  desire,  mine  rises  with  ad- 
miration. 

That  the  arrows  of  misfortune,  however  they  should, 
as  incident  to  humanity,  glance  a  slight  wound,  may 
never  reach  your  heart — that  the  snares  of  villainy  may 
never  beset  you  in  the  road  of  life — that  Innocence 
may  hand  you  by  the  path  of  Honor  to  the  dwelling 
of  Peace — is  the  sincere  wish  of  him  who  has  the 
honor  to  be,   &:c.     R.   B. 

The  first  letter  that  Bums  penned  in  1786  that  has  been 
preserved  gives  a  hint  to  his  correspondent  that  some  impor- 
tant matter  with  respect  to  himself, — not  the  most  agreeable — 
had  occurred.  It  also  gives  a  list  of  his  more  recent  poetical 
compositions  which  not  only  furnishes  an  excellent  guide  in 
the  chronology  of  those  early  poems,  but  evinces  how  eagerly 
the  poet  then  was  bent  on  creating  materials  to  fill  a  volume 
of  his  works  to  be  laid  before  the  public, 

OTO  MR.  JOHN  RICHMOND,  EDINBURGH. 

(Cromek,  1808.) 

MosSGiEi<,  \'jth  February  1786. 
My  Dear  Sir, — I  have  not  time  at  present  to  up- 
braid   you    for  your    silence  and    neglect ;  I  shall  only 


I7S6.]  FIRST  HINT  OF  DISAGREEABLES.  383 

say  I  received  yours  witli  great  pleasure.  I  have  en- 
closed you  a  piece  of  rliyming  ware  for  your  perusal. 
I  have  been  very  busy  with  the  Muses  since  I  saw 
you,  and  have  composed,  among  several  others,  "The 
Ordination,"  a  poem  on  Mr.  M'Kinlay's  being  called 
to  Kilmarnock  ;  ' '  Scotch  Drink, ' '  a  poem  ;  ' '  The  Cot- 
ter's  Saturday  Night;"  an  "Address  to  the  Devil," 
&c.  I  have  likewise  completed  my  poem  on  the 
' '  Dogs, ' '  but  have  not  shown  it  to  the  world.  My 
chief  patron  now  is  Mr.  Aiken,  in  Ayr,  who  is  pleased 
to  express  great  approbation  of  my  works.  Be  so  good 
as  send  me  Fergusson,*  by  Connel,  and  I  will  remit 
you  the  money.  I  have  no  news  to  acquaint  you  with 
about  Mauchline,  they  are  just  going  on  in  the  old 
way.  I  have  some  very  important  news  with  respect 
to  myself,  not  the  most  agreeable — news  I  am  sure 
you  cannot  guess,  but  I  shall  give  you  the  particulars 
another  time.  I  am  extremely  happy  with  Smith  ;  f 
he  is  the  only  friend  I  have  now  in  Mauchline.  I  can 
scarcely  forgive  your  long  neglect  of  me,  and  I  beg 
you  will  let  me  hear  from  you  regularly  by  Connel. 
If  you  would  act  your  part  as  a  friend,  I  am  sure 
neither  good  nor  bad  fortune  should  estrange  or  alter 
me.  Excuse  haste,  as  I  got  yours  but  yesterday.  I 
am,  my  dear  Sir,  yours, 

ROBT.    BURNESS. 


0  TO  JAMES  SMITH,  MAUCHLINE. 

(LOCKHART,    1828.) 

....  Against  two  things  I  am  fixed  as  fate — stay- 
ing at  home  ;  and  owning  her  conjugally.  The  first, 
by  Heaven,  I  will  not  do  !— the  last,  by  Hell,  I  will 
never  do  !     A  good    God    bless    you,    and    make   you 


*  Robert  Fergusson's  Poems,  which  Bums  had  before  perused  in  a  borrowed 
copy. 
t  James  Smith,  an  account  of  whom  has  been  given  at  page  233  vol.  I. 


384  CORRESPONDENCK.  [1786k 

happy,  up  to   the   warmest    weeping   wish   of  parting 
friendship  .... 

If  yen  see   Jean,  tell   her  I  will    meet  her,  so  help 
me  God,  in  my  hour  of  need.*  R.   B. 

Mr.  Lockhart  thus  explains  the  above  singular  fragment  :-^ 
"When  Burns  was  first  informed  of  Miss  Armour's  condition, 
the  announcement  staggered  him  like  a  blow.  He  saw  nothing 
for  it  but  to  fly  the  country  at  once  ;  and  in  a  note  to  James 
Smith  of  Mauchline,  the  confidante  of  his  amour,  he  wrote  as 
above. 

' '  The  lovers  met  accordingly  ;  and  the  result  of  the  meeting 
was  what  was  to  be  anticipated  from  the  tenderness  and  the 
manliness  of  Bums's  feelings.  All  dread  of  personal  incon- 
venience yielded  at  once  to  the  tears  of  the  woman  he  loved, 
and  ere  they  parted,  he  gave  into  her  keeping  a  written 
acknowledgment  of  marriage,  which,  when  produced  by  a 
person  in  Miss  Armour's  condition,  is,  according  to  the  Scots 
law,  to  be  accepted  as  legal  evidence  of  an  irregular  marriage 
....  By  what  arguments  the  girl's  parents  afterwards  pre- 
vailed on  her  to  take  so  strange  and  so  painful  a  step  we 
know  not  ;  but  the  fact  is  certain,  that,  at  their  urgent  en- 
treaty, she  destroyed  the  document,  which  must  have  been  to 
her  the  most  precious  of  her  possessions — the  only  evidence  of 
her  marriage." 


0  TO  MR.  JOHN  KENNEDY,  t 

(Cunningham,  1834.) 

MosSGiEiv,  3^  March  1786. 

Sir, — I  have  done  myself  the  pleasure  of  complying 
with  your  request  in  sending  you  my  Cottager.  If  you 
have  a  leisure  minute  I  should  be  glad  you  would  copy 
it,  and  return  me  either  the  original  or  the  transcript. 


*  'Tis  a  pity  that  the  whole  of  this  letter  is  not  ffiven.— G.  G. 

t  This  gentleman,  an  intimate  friend  of  Gavin  Hamilton,  was  then  Factor  at 
Dumfries  House,  and  subsequently  Factor  to  the  Farl  of  Breadalbane.  He  died 
in  1812,  aged  55 ;  so  that  when  he  was  entrusted  with  a  perusal  of  the  poet's  only 
copy  of  the  Cotter's  Saturday  Night,  he  was  quite  a  young  man,  senior  of  Burns 
by  only  two  years. 


^T.  28.]  PROPOSALS  TO   PUBLISH.  385 

as  I  have  not  a  copy  of  it  by  me,  and  I  have  a  friend 
who  wishes  to  see  it, 

Now  Kennedy,  if  foot  or  honse 
E'er  bring  you  iu  by  Mauchline  Corse,  &c. 

See  p.  256,  sJipra. 

ROBT.    BuRNESS. 


C)TO  MR.  ROBERT  MUIR,  KILMARNOCK.* 

(Cunningham,  1834.) 

MossGiEiv,  2oth  March,  1786. 

Dear  Sir, — I  am  heartily  sorry  I  had  not  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  you  as  you  returned  through  Mauchline  ; 
but  as  I  was  engaged,  I  could  not  be  in  town  before 
the  evening. 

I  here  enclose  you  my  ' '  Scotch  Drink, ' '  and  ' '  may 

the  follow  with  a  blessing  for    your  edification." 

I  hope,  some  time  before  we  hear  the  gowk,  to  have 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  in  Kilmarnock,  when  I  in- 
tend to  have  a  gill  between  us  in  a  mutchkin-stoup, 
which  will  be  a  great  comfort  and  consolation  to, 
Dear  Sir,  your  humble  Servant, 

ROBT,    BURNESS. 


OTO  ROBERT  AIKEN,  Esq.,  AYR. 
(Cunningham,  1834.) 

MosSGiEi.,  id  April  178^ 

Dear  Sir, — I  received  your  kind  letter  with  doubts, 
pleasure,  on  account  of   the  second  flattering   instance 

*  This  gentleman's  name  is  inserted  as  a  subscriber  for  forty  copies  of  the  first 
Edinburgh  edition  of  our  poet's  works.  He  was  a  wine-merchant  of  Kilmarnock, 
and  owner  of  a  small  estate  there,  called  I^oanfoot,  which  however  was  l)\ir(UnL-(l 
with  bonds.  He  died  on  22d  April  17SS,  just  six  days  after  the  registration  of  the 
deed  which  discharged  the  property  from  its  debt.  Being  a  bachelor,  his  only 
sister,  Agnes  Muir  or  Smith,  wife  of  Wm.  Smith,  merchant,  Kilmarnock,  suc- 
:eeded  to  I,oanfoot.    It  was  afterwards  sold  to  the  Duchess  of  Portland. 

I-  Y 


386  CORRESPONDENCE.  [1786. 

of  Mrs.   C.'s  notice  and  approbation.      I  assure  you,  I 

'Turn  out  the  bnmt  side  o'  my  shin,'     brent  or  brand 

as  the  famous  Ramsay,  of  jingling  memory,  says,  of 
such  a  patroness.  Present  her  my  most  grateful  ac- 
knowledgments, in  your  ver}'  best  manner  of  telling 
truth.  I  have  inscribed  the  following  stanza  on  the 
blank-leaf  of  Miss  More's  works  : — 

Thou  flattering  mark  of  friendship  kind. 

See  p.  261,  supra. 

My  proposals  for  publishing  I  am  just  going  to  send 
to  the  press.  I  expect  to  hear  from  you  by  the  first 
opportunity.     I  am  ever.   Dear  Sir,   yours, 

ROBT.    BURNESS. 

Mr  Robert  Aiken,  writer  in  Ayr,  was  the  procurator  who  so 
ably  defended  Mr  Gavin  Hamilton  before  the  Presbytery  in  the 
persecuting  proceedings  against  him  at  instance  of  the  Rev. 
\Vm.  Auld  and  "Holy  Willie."     {See  p.  91,  supra.) 

The  next  letter  in  order  of  date  is  a  very  important  one,  as 
marking  a  painful  crisis  in  the  storj-  of  the  poet's  intercourse 
with  Jean  Armour.  It  was  first  published  by  Cunningham, 
who  has  noted  that  the  address  is  wanting  on  the  original 
letter,  and  that  from  internal  evidence  only  it  is  supposed  to 
have  been  written  to 


OJOHN  BALLANTINE,  Esq.,  BANKER,  AYR. 
(Cunningham,  1834.) 

[About  14/A  April  1786.] 

Honored  Sir, — My  proposals  came  to  hand  last 
night,  and  knowing  that  you  would  wnsh  to  have  it 
in  your  power  to  do  me  a  service  as  early  as  any  bod}-, 
I  enclose  you  half  a  sheet  of  them.  I  must  consult 
you,  first  opportunity,  on  the  propriety  of  sending  my 
quondatn  friend,   Mr.   Aiken,  a  copy.     If  he  is  now  re- 


^a^.  28.]  ORIGINAL  PROSrECTUS.  387 

conciled  to  my  character  as  an  honest  man,  I  would 
do  it  with  all  my  soul  ;  but  I  would  not  be  beholden 
to  the  noblest  being  ever  God  created,  if  he  imagined 
me  to  be  a  rascal.  Apropos,  old  Mr.  Armour  prevailed 
with  him  to  mutilate  that  unlucky  paper  yesterday. 
Would  you  believe  it  ?  though  I  had  not  a  hope,  nor 
even  a  wish  to  make  her  mine  after  her  conduct ;  yet 
when  he  told  me  the  names  were  cut  out  of  the  paper, 
my  heart  died  within  me,  and  he  cut  my  veins  with 
the  news.*     Perdition  seize  her  falsehood  ! 

RoBT.  Burns. 

One  copy  of  the  poet's  printed  "proposals  for  publishing," 
referred  to  in  the  foregoing  letter,  is  known  to  have  been  pre- 
served. In  1871,  J.  B.  Greenshields,  Esq.,  of  Kerse,  Lesmaha- 
gow,  notified  in  a  Glasgow  newspaper  that  he  was  the  fortu- 
nate possessor  of  that  unique  relic,  a  copy  of  which  we  here 
annex.  Appended  to  it,  in  MS.  are  the  signatures  of  sixteen 
subscribers,  of  what  district  does  not  appear.  The  fifteenth 
name — that  of  "  Wm.  L,orrimer  " — is  scored  through,  and  the 
following  remark  attached  "  Copy  sent  per  Charles  Crichton 
— the  blockhead  refused  it." 


Apnl  14/h,  17S6. 

Proposals  for  Publishing  by  Subscription, 

SCOTTISH  POEMS  by  Robert  Burns. 

The  work  to  be  elegantly  printed,  in  one  volume  octavo.  Price,  stitched,  Three 
Shillings.  As  the  Author  has  not  the  most  distant  mercenary  view  in  publish- 
ing, as  soon  as  so  many  Subscribers  appear  as  will  defray  the  necessary  expense, 
the  work  will  be  sent  to  the  press. 

"Set  out  the  brutit-^  side  of  your  shin,  brent 

For  pride  in  poets  is  nae  sin  : 

Glory's  the  prize  for  which  they  rin, 

And  Fame's  their  joe  ; 

And  wha  blows  best  his  horn  shall  win, 

And  wherefore  no?" 

Allan  Ramsay. 

*  Mr.  Aiken  acted  as  legal  agent  for  Mr.  Armour,  in  the  matter  between  him 
and  the  poet. — J.  H. 

t  Brunt  (as  well  as  its  forms  brnit  and  brant)  is  from  the  same  root  as  German 
brennan,  to  burn,  and  means  primarily  burnished  like  newly-minted  coin.  Brant 
new  or  breni  new  (Kiiglish  brand  new)  is  a  common  expression  for  quite  new. 
Brunt  as  used  here  has  its  secondary  meaning  of  best-looking.— J.  H. 


388 


CORRESPONDENCE. 


[1786. 


We  undersubscribers  engage  to  take  the  above-mentioned  work,  on  the  condl 
tions  specified. 

(Here  follow  Subscriber' s  names  in  manuscript.) 


William  Murray,  one  copy, 
R.  Thomson,  i  copy, 
James  Hall,  one  copy, 
Gavin  Stewart,  one  copy, 
John  Hasting,  one  copy, 
William  Johnston,  3  coppies, 
James  Ingles,  one  copy, 
John  Boswell,  one  coppie, 
Gavin  Geddes,  two  coppies, 
Geo.  Howitsou,  one  copy, 


Colin  M'Dougall,  one  coppy, 
Charles  Howitsou,  one  copy 
William  M'Call,  one  copy, 

(Sent  per  Mr.  Dun.) 
William  Templeton,  one  coppy, 
William   Lorrimer,  (copy  sent  per 

Charles  Crichton— the  blockhead 

refused  it), 
John  Merry,  two  coppies. 


0  TO  Mr.  M'WHINNIE,  WRITER,  AYR. 

(Cromek,  1808.) 

[MosSGiEL,  iTth  April  1786.] 

It  is  injuring-  some  hearts,  those  that  elegantly  bear 
the  impression  of  the  good  Creator,  to  say  to  them 
you  give  them  the  trouble  of  obliging  a  friend  ;  for 
this  reason,  I  only  tell  you  that  I  gratify  my  own  feel- 
ings in  requesting  your  friendly  offices  with  respect  to 
the  enclosed,  because  I  know  it  will  gratify  yours  to 
assist  me  in  it  to  the  utmost  of  your  power. 

I  have  sent  you  four  copies,  as  I  have  no  less  than 
eight  dozen,  which  is  a  great  deal  more  than  I  shall 
ever  need. 

Be  sure  to  remember  a  poor  poet  militant  in  your 
prayers.  He  looks  forward  with  fear  and  trembling  to 
that,  to  him,  important  moment  which  stamps  the  die 
with — with — with,  perhaps  the  eternal  disgrace  of,  my 
dear  Sir,  your  humble,  afflicted,  tormented. 


RoBT.  Burns. 


^T.  28.1  MR.  JOHN  KENNEDY.  389 

O  TO  Mr.  JOHN  KENNEDY. 

(Cunningham,  1834.) 

[MossGiEi.,  10th  April  1786.] 
Sir, — By  some  neglect  in  Mr.  Hamilton,  I  did  not 
hear  of  your  kind  request  for  a  subscription  paper  till 
this  day.  I  will  not  attempt  any  acknowledgement 
for  this,  nor  the  manner  in  which  I  see  your  name  in 
Mr  Hamilton's  Subscription-list.  Allow  me  only  to 
say,  Sir,  I  feel  the  weight  of  the  debt. 

I  have  here  likewise  enclosed  a  small  piece,  the  very 
latest  of  my  productions.  I  am  a  good  deal  pleased 
with  some  sentiments  myself,  as  they  are  just  the  native 
querulous  feelings  of  a  heart  which,  as  the  elegantly 
melting  Gray  says  "melancholy  has  marked  for  her 
own. ' ' 

Our  race  comes  on  apace — that  much  expected  scene 
of  revelry  and  mirth  ;  but  to  me  it  brings  no  joy  equal 
to  that  meeting  with  you  with  which  you  last  flattered 
the  expectation  of.  Sir,  your  indebted  Servant, 

RoBT.  Burns. 

Enclosed  in  this  letter  was  the  author's  poem — "  To  a  Moun- 
tain Daisy.  On  turning  one  down  with  the  plough  in  April 
1786;"   but  here  inscribed  under  the  title,  "The  Gowan." 

"  Wee,  modest,  crimson-tippcJ  flower, 
Thou's  met  me  in  an  evil  hour,"  &c.,  see  page  Tj^supra. 

On  the  subject  of  the  breach  between  the  poet  and  his  pri- 
vately espoused  '  Bonie  Jean,'  with  its  effects  upon  his  mind 
and  sentiments,  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  series  of  poetical 
pieces  in  this  Volume  from  p.  273  to  p.  290.  In  the  following 
letter  to  Mr.  John  Amot,  which  we  here  present,  Bums  treats 
the  whole  matter  in  a  surprisingly  frolicsome  humor,  approach- 
ing even  to  the  burlesque. 


390  CORRESPONDEINCE.  [1786. 


0  TO  JOHN   ARNOT  OF  DALQUATS- 
WOOD,    ESQ., 

INCLOSING  A   SUBSCRIPTION-BILIv    FOR    MY    FIRST    KDITION, 

which  was  printed  at  kilmarnock. 

(Douglas,  1877.) 

[April  1786.] 

Sir, — I  have  long  wished  for  some  kind  of  claim 
to  the  honor  of  your  acquaintance,  and  since  it  is  out 
of  my  power  to  make  that  claim  by  the^  least  service 
of  mine  to  you,  I  shall  do  it  by  asking  a  friendly 
office  of  you  to  me. — I  should  be  much  hurt.  Sir,  if 
any  one  should  view  my  poor  Parnassian  Pegasus  in 
the  light  of  a  spur-galled  Hack,  and  think  that  I  wish 
to  make  a  shilling  or  two  by  him.  I  spurn  the 
thought. — 

It  may  do — maun  do,  Sir,  wi'  them  wha 
Maun  please  the  great  folk  for  a  wame-fou ; 
For  me,  sae  laigh  I  need  na  bow. 
For,  Lord  be  thankit !  I  can  plough : 
And  when  I  downa  yoke  a  naig, 
Then,  Lord  be  thankit !  I  can  beg. — 

You  will  then,  I  hope  Sir,  forgive  my  troubling  you 
with  the  inclosed,  and  spare  a  poor  heart-crushed  devil 
a  world  of  apologies — a  business  he  is  very  unfit  for 
at  any  time  ;  but  at  present,  widowed  as  he  is  of  every 
woman-giving  comfort,  he  is  utterly  incapable  of  Sad 
and  grievous  of  late,  Sir,  has  been  my  tribulation, 
and  many  and  piercing  my  sorrows  ;  and  had  it  not 
been  for  the  loss  the  world  would  have  sustained  in 
losing  so  great  a  poet,  I  had,  ere  now,  done  as  a  much 
wiser  man,  the  famous  Achitophel  of  long-headed 
memory  did  before  me,  when  "he  went  home  and  set 
his  house  in  order."  I  have  lost.  Sir,  that  dearest 
earthly  treasure,  that  greatest  blessing  here  below,  that 


^^-  28.]  STORY  OF  JEAN.  391 

last,  best  gift  which  completed  Adam's  happiness  in 
the  garden  of  bliss,  I  have  lost— I  have  lost— my 
trembling  hand  refuses  its  office,  the  frighted  ink  re- 
coils up  the  quill— Tell  it  not  in  Gath— I  have  lost— 
a — a — a  wife  ! 


Fairest  of  God's  creation,  last  and  best ! 
JVoTif  art  thou  lost. 


You  have  doubtless,  Sir,  heard  my  story,  heard  it 
with  all  its  exaggerations  ;  but  as  my  actions,  and  my 
motives  for  action,  are  peculiarly  like  myself,  and  that 
is  peculiarly  like  nobody  else,  I  shall  just  beg  a  leisure- 
moment  and  a  spare  tear  of  you,  until  I  tell  my  own 
story  my  own  way. 

I  have  been  all  my  life.  Sir,  one  of  the  rueful-look- 
ing, long-visaged  sons  of  Disappointment. — A  danmed 
star  has  always  kept  my  zenith,  and  shed  its  baleful 
influence,  in  that  emphatic  curse  of  the  Prophet — "And 
behold  whatsoever  he  doth,  it  shall  not  prosper  !"  I 
rarely  hit  where  I  aim  :  and  if  I  want  anything,  I  am 
almost  sure  never  to  find  it  where  I  seek  it.  For  in- 
stance, if  my  penknife  is  needed,  I  pull  out  twenty 
things — a  plough-wedge,  a  horse  nail,  an  old  letter,  or 
a  tattered  rhyme,  in  short  everything  but  my  pen- 
knife ;  and  that,  at  last,  after  a  painful,  fruitless  search, 
will  be  found  in  the  unsuspected  corner  of  an  unsus- 
pected pocket,  as  if  on  purpose  thrust  out  of  tlie  wa>-. 
Still,  Sir,  I  had  long  had  a  wishing  ej-e  to  that  ines- 
timable blessing,  a  wife.  My  mouth  watered  deli- 
ciously,  to  see  a  young  fellow,  after  a  few  idle, 
common-place  stories  from  a  gentleman  in  black,  strip 
and  go  to  bed  with  a  young  girl,  and  no  one  durst 
say  black  was  his  eye  ;  while  I,  for  just  doing  the 
same  thing,  only  wanting  that  ceremony,  am  made  a 
Sunday's  laughing  stock,  and  abused  like  a  pick-pocket. 
I  was  well  aware  though,  that  if  my  ill-starred  fortune 


392  CORRESPONDENCE.  [1786. 

got  the  least  hint  of  my  connubial  wish,  my  schemes 
would  go  to  nothing.  To  prevent  this,  I  determined 
to  take  my  measures  with  such  thought  and  fore- 
thought, such  a  caution  and  precaution,  that  all  the 
malignant  planets  in  the  Hemisphere  should  be  unable 
to  blight  my  designs.  Not  content  with,  to  use  the 
words  of  the  celebrated  Westminster  Divines,  "The 
outward  and  ordinary  means  ' '  I  left  no  stone  unturned, 
sounded  every  unfathomed  depth  ;  stopped  up  every 
hole  and  bore  of  an  objection  ;  but,  how  shall  I  tell 
it !  notwithstanding  all  this  turning  of  stones,  stopping 
of  bores,  etc. — whilst  I,  with  secret  pleasa.ire,  marked 
my  project  swelling  to  the  proper  crisis,  and  was 
singing  Te  Dcinn  in  my  own  fancy  ;  or,  to  change 
the  metaphor,  whilst  I  was  vigorously  pressing  on  the 
siege  ;  had  carried  the  counter-scarp,  and  made  a  prac- 
ticable breach  behind  the  curtain  in  the  gorge  of  the 
very  principal  bastion  ;  nay,  having  mastered  the 
covered  way,  I  had  found  means  to  slip  a  choice 
detachment  into  the  very  citadel  ;  while  I  had  nothing 
less  in  view  than  displaying  my  victorious  banners  on 
the  top  of  the  walls — Heaven  and  Earth  must  I 
"remember"  !  my  damned  star  wheeled  about  to  the 
zenith,  by  whose  baleful  rays  Fortune  took  the  alarm, 
and  pouring  in  her  forces  on  all  quarters,  front,  flank, 
and  rear,  I  was  utterly  routed,  my  baggage  lost,  my 
military  chest  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy  ;  and  your 
poor  devil  of  a  humble  servant,  commander-in-chief 
forsooth,  was  obliged  to  scamper  away,  without  either 
arms  or  honors  of  war,  except  his  bare  bayonet  and 
cartridge-pouch  ;  nor  in  all  probability  had  he  escaped 
even  with  them,  had  he  not  made  a  shift  to  hide 
them  under  the  lap  of  his  military  cloak. 

In  short,  Pharaoh  at  the  Red  Sea,  Darius  at  Arbela, 
Pompey  at  Pharsalia,  Edward  at  Bannockburn,  Charles 
at  Pultaway,  Burgoyne  at  Saratoga — no  Prince,  Poten- 
tate, or  Commander  of  ancient  or  modem  unfortunate 


&r.  28.]  STORY  OF  JEAN.  393 

memory    ever    got    a    more    shameful    or    more    total 

defeat — 

"O  horrible  !  O  horrible  !  most  horrible  !  " 

How  I  bore  this,  can  only  be  conceived.  All  powers 
of  recital  labor  far,  far  behind.  There  is  a  pretty  large 
portion  of  bedlam  in  the  composition  of  a  poet  at  any 
time  ;  but  on  this  occasion  I  was  nine  parts  and  nine 
tenths,  out  of  ten,  stark  staring  mad.  At  first,  I  was 
fixed  in  stuporific  insensibility,  silent,  sullen,  staring 
like  Lot's  wife  besaltified  in  the  plains  of  Gomorha. 
But  my  second  paroxysm  chiefly  beggars  description. 
The  rifted  northern  ocean  when  returning  suns  dissolve 
the  chains  of  winter,  and  loosening  precipices  of  long 
accumulated  ice  tempest  with  hideous  crash  the  foam- 
ing Deep — images  like  these  may  give  some  faint 
shadow  of  what  was  the  situation  of  my  bosom.  My 
chained  faculties  broke  loose,  my  maddening  passions, 
roused  to  tenfold  fury,  bore  over  their  banks  with 
impetuous,  resistless  force,  carrying  every  check  and 
principle  before  them.  Counsel,  was  an  unheeded  call 
to  the  passing  hurricane  ;  Reason,  a  screaming  elk  in 
the  vortex  of  Moskoestrom  ;  and  Religion,  a  feebly- 
struggling  beaver  down  the  roarings  of  Niagara.  I 
reprobated  the  first  moment  of  my  existence  ;  execrated 
Adam's  folly-infatuated  wish  for  that  goodly-looking, 
but  poison-breathing  gift,  which  had  ruined  him,  and 
undone  me  ;  and  called  on  the  womb  of  uncrcalc-d 
niofht  to  close  over  me  and  all  niv  .sorrows. 

A  storm  naturally  overblows  itself.  My  sj)ent  jxis- 
sions  gradually  sank  into  a  lurid  calm  ;  aud  l)y 
deofrees  I  have  subsided  into  the  time-.settlcd  .sorrow  of 
the  sable  widower,  who,  wiping  away  the  decent  tear, 
lifts  up  his  grief- worn  eye  to  look — for  another  wife.^ 

"  Such  is  the  state  of  man  ;  to-day  he  biuls 

His  tender  leaves  of  hojie  ;   to-morrow  blossoms, 
And  bears  his  blushinj;  honors  thick  upon  him  ; 
The  third  day  comes  a   frost,   a  killing'   frost. 
And  nips  his  root,  and  then  he  falls  as  I  do." 


394  CORRESPONDENCE.  [1786. 

Such,  Sir,  has  been  this  fatal  era  of  my  life. — "And 
it  came  to  pass,  that  when  I  looked  for  sweet,  behold 
bitter  ;  and  for  light,  behold  darkness. ' ' 

But  this  is  not  all. — Already  the  holy  beagles,  the 
houghmagandie  pack,  begin  to  snuff  the  scent,  and  I 
expect  every  moment  to  see  them  cast  off,  and  hear 
them  after  me  in  full  cry  ;  but  as  I  am  an  old  fox,  I 
shall  give  them  dodging  and  doubling  for  it,  and  by 
and  by,  I  intend  to  earth  among  the  mountains  of 
Jamaica. 

I  am  so  struck,  on  a  review,  with  the  impertinent 
length  of  this  letter,  that  I  shall  not  increase  it  with 
one  single  word  of  apology  ;  but  abruptly  conclude 
with  assuring  you  that  I  am,  Sir,  Your  and  Misery's 
most  humble  servant, 

RoB"^.  Burns. 

The  name  of  the  gentleman  to  whom  the  foregoing  strange 
epistle  is  addressed  is  found  in  the  list  of  subscribers  to  the 
author's  edition,  Edinburgh  1787.  That  Bums  himself  thought 
well  of  this  voluminous  letter  is  certain  from  the  circumstance 
that  he  preser\^ed  a  copy  of  it,  and  several  years  afterwards 
was  at  the  pains  to  transcribe  it  into  the  book  of  his  letters 
collected  by  him  for  his  friend,  Mr.  Riddell  of  Friar's  Carse. 
In  that  collection  it  is  placed  No.  2  in  the  list,  and  headed  by 
the  following  introductory  note  : — 

This  was  addressed  to  one  of  the  most  accomplished 
of  the  sons  of  men  that  I  ever  met  with — John  Amot 
of  Dalquhatswood  in  Ayrshire.  Alas !  had  he  been 
equally  prudent  !  It  is  a  damning  circumstance  in  hu- 
man life  that  prudence,  insular  and  alone,  without 
another  virtue,  will  conduct  a  man  to  the  most  envied 
eminence  in  life,  while,  having  every  other  quality, 
and  wanting  that  one,  which  at  best  is  itself  but  a 
half  virtue,  will  not  save  a  man  from  the  world's 
contempt,  and  real  miser>^ — perhaps  perdition. 

The  story  of  the  letter  was  this.  I  had  got  deeply 
in  love  with  a  young  fair   one,  of  which   proofs,  were 


^-eT.  28.]  EGOTISMS.  395 

every  day  arising  more  and  more  to  view.  I  would 
gladly  have  covered  my  Inamorata  from  the  darts  of 
calumny  with  the  conjugal  shield — nay,  I  had  actually 
made  up  some  sort  of  Wedlock  ;  but  I  was  at  that 
time  deep  in  the  guilt  of  being  unfortunate,  for  which 
good  and  lawful  objection,  the  lady's  friends  broke  all 
our  measures  and  drove  me  au  desespoir. 


EGOTISMS  FROM  MY  OWN  SENSATIONS. 

(Cromek,  1808.) 

May,  

I  don't  well  know  what  is  the  reason  of  it,  but 
somehow  or  other  though  I  am,  when  I  have  a  mind, 
pretty  generally  beloved  ;  yet  I  never  could  get  the 
art  of  commanding  respect.  I  imagine  it  is  owing  to 
my  being  deficient  in  what  Sterne  calls  ' '  that  under- 
strapping  virtue  of  discretion. ' '  I  am  so  apt  to  a  lapsus 
liiigiKS^  that  I  sometimes  think  the  character  of  a  cer- 
tain great  man  I  have  read  of  somewhere  is  very  much 
apropos  to  myself,  that  he  was  ' '  a  compound  of  great 
talents  and  great  folly." 

N.B. — To  try  if  I  can  discover  the  causes  of  this 
wretched  infirmity,  and,  if  possible,  to  mend  it. 

The  preceding  remarks  are  followed  by  these  pieces  : — 

1.  Song — "  Tho'  cruel  Fate  should  bid  us  part," 

2.  Fragment — "One  night  as  I  did  wander," 

3.  Song — "There  was  a  lad  was  bom  in  Kyle," 

4.  Elegy  on  the  Death  of  Robert  Ruisseaux, 

pp.  123  to  128,  supra 


396  CORRESPONDENCE.  [1786. 


f)  TO  MR.  JOHN  KENNEDY, 

ENCI^OSING  THE  author's  "  EPISTLE  TO  JOHN  RANKINE," 
P.    65,    SUPRA. 

(Cunningham,  1834.) 

MossGiEL,  \^th  May  1786. 
Dear  Sir, — I  have  sent  you  the  above  hasty  copy  as 
I  promised.  In  about  three  or  four  weeks  I  shall 
probably  set  the  press  a-going.  I  am  miKh  hurried 
at  present,  otherwise  your  diligence,  so  very  friendly 
in  my  Subscription,  should  hav^e  a  more  lengthened 
acknowledgment  from,  Dear  Sir,  your  obliged  Ser- 
vant, RoBT.  Burns. 


0  TO    MR.    DAVID    BRICE,    SHOEMAKER, 
GLASGOW. 

(Cromek,  iSoS,*  and  Cunningham,  1834.) 

MossGiEi.,   \2th  June  1786. 

Dear  Brice, — I  received  your  message  by  G.  Pat- 
e:^on,  and  as  I  am  very  throng  at  present,  I  just 
write  to  let  you  know  that  there  is  such  a  worthless, 
rhyming  reprobate  as  your  humble  serv^ant  still  in  the 
land  of  the  living,  though  I  can  scarcely  say  in  the 
place  of  hope.  I  have  no  news  to  tell  you  that  will 
give  me  any  pleasure  to  mention,  or  you  to  hear. 

Poor  ill-advised,  ungrateful  Armour  came  home  on 
Friday  last.  You  have  heard  all  the  particulars  of 
that  affair,  and  a  black  affair  it  is.  What  she  thinks 
of  her   conduct    now,   I  don't    know  ;    one   thing  I  do 

•  Cromek  gave  a  mere  fragment  of  this  letter,  which  Cunningham  aflerwards 
published  more  completely. 


.js^r.  28.]  DEAR,  UNGRATEFUIv  JEAN.  397 

know — she  has  made  me  completely  miserable.  Never 
man  loved,  or  rather  adored,  a  woman  more  than  I 
did  her ;  and,  to  confess  a  truth  between  you  and  me, 
I  do  still  love  her  to  distraction  after  all,  though  I 
won't  tell  her  so  if  I  were  to  see  her,  which  I  don't 
w^ant  to  do.  My  poor  dear  unfortunate  Jean  !  how 
happy  have  I  been  in  thy  arms  !  It  is  not  the  losing 
her  that  makes  me  so  unhappy,  but  for  her  sake  I 
feel  most  severely  :  I  foresee  she  is  in  the  road  to — I 
am  afraid — eternal  ruin. 

May  Almighty  God  forgive  her  ingratitude  and  per- 
jury to  me,  as  I  from  my  very  soul  forgive  her  :  and 
may  His  grace  be  with  her,  and  bless  her  in  all  her 
future  life  !  I  can  have  no  nearer  idea  of  the  place 
of  eternal  punishment  than  what  I  have  felt  in  my 
own  breast  on  her  account.  I  have  tried  often  to  for- 
get her  :  I  have  run  into  all  kinds  of  dissipation  and 
riots,  mason-meetings,  drinking-matches,  and  other 
mischief,  to  drive  her  out  of  my  head,  but  all  in  vain. 
And  now  for  a  grand  cure  :  the  ship  is  on  her  way 
home  that  is  to  take  me  out  to  Jamaica  ;  and  then, 
farewell  dear  old  Scotland  !  and  farewell  dear,  ungrate- 
ful Jean  !  for  never,   never  will  I  see  you  more. 

You  will  have  heard  that  I  am  going  to  commence 
Poe^  in  print  ;  and  to-morrow  my  works  go  to  the 
press.  I  expect  it  will  be  a  volume  of  about  two 
hundred  pages— it  is  just  the  last  foolish  action  I  intend 
to  do  ;  and  then  turn  a  wise  man  as  /asf  as  possible. 
Believe  me  to  be,  dear  Brice,  your  friend  and  well- 
wisher,  ROBT.  Burns. 

0    TO    MR.    JAMES    BURNESS,    WRITER, 
MONTROSE. 

(Douglas,  1877.) 
My  Dear  Sir,— I  wrote  you  about  three  half-twelve 
months   ago   by   post,  and  I  wrote   you    about   a   year 


398  CORRESPONDENCE.  L1786. 

ago  by  a  private  hand,  and  I  have  not  had  the  least 
return  from  you.  I  have  just  half-a-minute  to  write 
you  by  an  Aberdeen  gentleman  of  my  acquaintance 
who  promises  to  wait  upon  you  with  this  on  his  arri- 
val, or  soon  after  :  I  intend  to  send  you  a  letter  ac- 
companied with  a  singular  curiosity  in  about  five  or 
six  weeks  hence.  I  shall  then  write  you  more  at 
large  ;  meanwhile  you  are  just  to  look  on  this  as  a 
mc7Jienio  mc.  I  hope  all  friends  are  well. — I  am  ever, 
my  dear  Sir,  your  affectionate  cousin, 

ROBT.    BURNESS. 
MosSGiEiy,  near  MAUCm:,iNE,  \ 

July  5th,  1786.  i  '^ 

The  poet's  holograph  of  this  note  is  in  his  monument  at 
Edinburgh.  The  "singular  curiosity  "  here  referred  to  means 
a  copy  of  the  first  edition  of  the  author's  poems,  then  at  the 
press.  The  reader  will  notice  that  although  Bums  had,  some 
three  months  previously,  ceased  to  write  his  name,  as  in  two 
syllables,  he  here  returns  to  the  old  mode  of  spelling,  in  def- 
erence to  his  correspondent. 


0  TO  Mr.  JOHN  RICHMOND,  EDINBURGH, 
(Hogg  and  Motherwell,  1835.) 

MosSGiEL,  ^fh  July  17S6. 

My  Dear  Friend, — With  the  sincerest  grief  I  read 
your  letter.  You  are  truly  a  son  of  misfortune.  I 
shall  be  extremely  anxious  to  hear  from  you  how  your 
health  goes  on  ;  if  it  is  any  way  re-establishing,  or  if 
Leith  promises  well  :  in  short,  how  you  feel  in  the 
inner  man. 

No  news  worth  anything  ;  only  godly  Br^'an  was  in 
the  hiqiiisition  yesterday,  and  half  the  countryside  as 
witnesses  against  him.  He  still  stands  out  steady  and 
denying ;  but  proof  was  led  yesternight  of  circum- 
stances highly  suspicious,  almost  de  facto :   one  of  the 


^T.  ?8.]  THE  COURT  OF   EQUITY.  3U9 

girls  made  oath  that  she  upon  a  time  rashly  entered 
the  house  (to  speak  in  your  cant)  ' '  in  the  hour  of 
cause."  * 

I  have  waited  on  Armour  since  her  return  home  ; 
not  from  the  least  view  of  reconciliation,  but  merely 
to  ask  for  her  health,  and  to  you  I  will  confess  it, 
from  a  foolish  hankering  fondness,  very  ill  placed  in- 
deed. The  mother  forbade  me  the  house,  nor  did  Jean 
show  that  penitence  that  might  have  been  expected. 
However  the  priest,  I  am  informed,  will  give  me  a  cer- 
tificate as  a  single  man,  if  I  comply  with  the  rules 
of  the  church,  which  for  that  very  reason  I  intend  to 
do. 

I  am  going  to  put  on  sackcloth  and  ashes  this  day, 
I  am  indulged  so  far  as  to  appear  in  my  own  seat. 
Peccavi^  pater^  miserere  niei.  My  book  will  be  ready 
in  a  fortnight.  If  you  have  any  subscribers,  return 
them  by  Connell.  The  Lord  stand  with  the  righteous  ; 
amen,  amen.  R.   B. 


Note  : — We  had  determined,  wlien  we  treated  of  the  "Court  of 
Equity"  at  page  156  supra,  to  have  entirely  left  out  the  "min- 
utes "  which  exist  in  Bums's  own  handwriting  in  the  British 
Museum,  Egerton  MSS.  1656,  folio  8.  We  have,  however,  now 
determined  to  present  it  to  the  public  in  such  a  form  as  will  not 
be  offensive  in  family  circles.  We  may  say  for  those  who  are  cu- 
rious in  such  matters  that  the  whole  performance  (and  esjiccially 
the  parts  left  out)  is  simply  silly,  and  altogether  unworthy  the 
genius  of  Burns  ;  but  as  it  is  frequently  referred  to  in  this  edition 
of  his  works,  we  think  that  the  abridgement  which  we  here  give 
will  be  satisfactory.  It  has  never  before  appeared  in  print  in  any 
form,  and  as  it  is  the  only  authenticated  ])roduction  of  Bums 
which  would   have  been   left  out   had  we  omjlled   it,  we  think   this 


♦This  paragraph  Dr.  Chambers  has  fastidiously  oiiiitlcd.  The  "  liuiiiisition  " 
here  alluded  to  was  probably  the  "  Court  of  K<iiiity "  held  within  the  house 
of  John  Dow,  vintner,  some  account  of  which  is  jjiven  nt  p.  15(1,  iupm.  John 
Richmond  had  formerly  acted  as  "Clerk  of  Court,"  and  hence  the  reason 
ot   "godly  Bryan's"  delinquency  being  communicated  to  him. 


400  THE  COURT  OF   EQUITY.  [1786. 

an  additional  reason   for  giving  it  place  in  our  COMPLETE  EDI 
TION  of  his  works.— J.  H. 

THE  COURT  OF  EQUITY. 

In  Truth  and  Honor's  name,  Amen 
Know  all  men  by  these  presents  plain. 

This  twalt  o'  May,  at  Mauchline  given  ; 
The  year  'tween  eighty-five  an'  seven  ; 

We 

As  per  extractum  from  each  Session  ; 
And  by  our  Brethren  constituted, 
A  Court  of  Equity  deputed, 
With  special  authoris'd  direction, 
To  take  beneath  our  strict  protection, 


We  take  cognisance  there  anent, 

The  proper  Judges  competent. 

First,  Poet  Bums,  he  takes  the  Chair : 

AUow'd  by  all,  his  title's  fair ; 

And  past  nem.  con.  without  dissension. 

He  has  a  duplicate  pretension. 

The  second  Smith,  our  worthy  Fiscal, 

To  cowe  each  pertinacious  rascal ; 

In  this,  as  ev'ry  other  state, 

His  merit  is  conspicuous  great. 

Richmond  the  third,  our  trusty  Clerk, 

Our  INIinutes  regular  to  mark  ; 

And  sit  dispenser  of  the  law 

In  absence  of  the  former  twa. 

The  fourth,  our  Messenger  at  arms. 

When  failing  all  the  milder  terms, 

Hunter  a  hearty  willing  Brother, 

Weel  skill'd  in  dead  an'  living  leather. 

Without  Preamble  less  or  more  said, 
We  body  politic  aforesaid, 
With  legal,  due  whereas,  and  wherefore, 
We  are  appointed  here  to  care  for 
The  int' rests  of  our  Constituents, 
And  punish  contraveening  truants  ; 


*  Eight  lines  omitted  here  referring  to  village  gossip  and  scandaL 
fTwo  lines  omittied. 


^T.  28.]  THE   COURT  OF  EQUITY.  40) 

Whereas,  Our  Fiscal  by  Petition 
Informs  us  there  is  strong  suspicion 
You,  Coachman  Dow,  and  Clockie  Brown 
Baith  residenters  in  this  town, 
In  other  words.  You,  Jock  and  Sandie 


Then  Brother  Dow,  if  you're  asham'd 
In  such  a  quorum  to  be  named, 
Your  conduct  much  is  to  be  blam'd  ; 
See  ev'n  himsel,  there's  godly  Bryan, 
The  auld  whatreck  he  has  been  trj-in', 
When  such  as  he  put  to  their  han\ 
What  man  on  character  need  stan'  ^ 
Then  Brother  dear  lift  up  your  brow, 
And  like  yoursel,  the  truth  avow  ; 
Erect  a  dauntless  face  i:pon  it. 
An'  say,  ' '  I  am  the  man  has  done  it ; 

Then  Brown  and  Dow  above-design' d. 
For  clagsj  an'  clauses  there  subjoin 'd. 
We,  Court  aforesaid,  cite  &  summon, 
That  on  the  fourth  o'  June  incomin, 
The  hour  o'  Cause,  in  our  Court-ha' 
At  Whiteford's  Arms,  Ye  answer  Law. 

But,  as  reluctantly  we  punish. 
An'  rather,  mildly  would  admonish ; 
Since  Better  Punishment  prevented, 
Than  Obstinacy  fair  repented 

Then,  for  that  ancient  Secret's  sake, 
You  have  the  honor  to  partake ; 
An'  for  that  noble  Badge  you  wear, 
You,  Sandie  Dow  our  Brother  dear. 
We  give  you  as  a  IVIan  an'  Mason, 
This  private,  sober,  friendly  lesson. 

2 

The  rope  they  round  the  pump  shall  tak 
An'  tye  your  hans  behint  your  back  ; 

♦  Twenty-five  lines  omitted,  describing  the  charge  against   Brown,  the  clock 
maker, 
t  Thirty-one  lines  omitted,  containing  charge  against  Coachman  Dow. 
t  Impeachments,  a  Scotch  legal  term. 
i  Two  lines  omitted. 

I.  z 


402  THE   COURT  OF   EQUITY.  [1786 

Wi'  just  an  ell  o'  string  allow' d, 
To  jink  an'  hide  you  frae  th'  crowd. 
There  he  shall  stan',  a  legal  seisure, 
During  said  Maggie  Mitchel's  pleasure; 
So  be,  her  pleasure  dinna  pass 
Seven  turnings  of  a  half-hour  glass ; 
Nor  shall  it  in  her  pleasure  be 
To  lowse  you  out  in  less  than  three. 

This,  our  futurum  esse  Decreet, 
We  mean  it  not  to  keep  a  secret : 
But  in  Our  summons  here  insert  it, 
And  whoso  dares,  may  controvert  it, 

This,  mark'd  before  the  date  and  place  is : 
Subsign :  um  est  per  Burns  the  Preses. 

L.  S.  B. 

This  Summons  &  the  Signet  mark 
Extractum  est  per  Richmond,  Clerk, 

Richmond. 

At  Mauchline,  twenty-fifth  of  May, 
About  the  twalt  hour  o'  the  day, 
You  two,  in  propria  persona, 
Before  design' d  Sandie  &  Johnie, 
This  summons  legally  have  got, 
As  vide  Witness  underwrote  ; 
Within  the  house  of  John  Dow,  Vinter 
Nunc  facio  hoc — 

Gullelmus  Hunter. 


END    OF    VOLUME    I- 


f^ 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


SEP  2  2 


JiKz 


Form  L9-75m-7,'61(0l437s4)444 


PR     Burns  - 

4300'   Complote  works 

196  9  a 


./  ill 


ERy   SEP  1  -  iQLV 


3  1158  00785  6601 


uc 


SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA  000  366  713  6 


PR 

4300 
1909a 
v.l 


J  J 

ii  ! 

■ . 

1 

1 

1 

1 

j 
; 

1 

f 

i 

'^ 

1 

^^iTB 

1 

1 

1 

